What's in a look?
by Warmwoollenmittens
Summary: My contribution to the July prompt. (Thanks to lemacd!) Maria attends the party and is forced to confront the whispered rumours about herself and her employer.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I haven't written anything in a while and wanted another stab at it. I know the party has been the setting for a various number of brilliant stories on FF but I wanted to put my own spin on it.** **I'm not sure whether I'm pleased with the start of this story, but it aims to add meat to the bones of the canon plot, starting at the beginning of the party, some time before the Laendler. I hope you enjoy and please do let me know your thoughts.**

* * *

"Where did you find _that_?"

Captain Georg von Trapp followed his friend's line of vision through the crowd of guests milling about his ballroom, but could find nothing of consequence that lieutenant Waltz might've been referring to.

"Find what?" He asked, perplexed, seeing nothing but a sea of endless ball gowns and tuxedos.

 _"That,"_ Dieter reiterated, inclining his head towards something he'd spotted across the room. His eyes were dancing with a lewd sort of triumph, as though he'd discovered some kind of magnificent prize for the taking.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Georg craned his neck for a clearer look at the mysterious something that had so readily captured Dieter's beady eye. Though he was at least a head taller than most of the people Elsa had insisted on inviting into his home, his efforts remained futile. Save for the odd bald head and the ridiculously extravagant coifs of synthetic hair piled high, he could see nothing.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," came his bored reply, "do enlighten me will you."

"Why, that alluring little nymph who's been minding your children all evening."

It was then that Georg's eyes settled reluctantly upon the subject of Dieter's fascination. There, leaning daintily against the French doors that led to the terrace and watching the scene before her with a childlike fascination to rival that of his youngest daughters, was Fraulein Maria. She was entirely oblivious to the gazes of the two men now watching her - one with a wolffish gleam in his eye and the other with a sudden face like thunder.

She was far too absorbed in watching the many couples on the ballroom floor engaged in an intricate step - her eyes were sparkling and the guileless smile brightening her face was enough to paint her as the perfect picture of feminine innocence. A wallflower, but an enchanting one nonetheless and - much to Georg's distinct displeasure - exactly the type of girl that lieutenant Dieter Waltz would prey on after one too many glasses of champagne.

His jaw visibly clenched.

"Her name is Fraulein Maria," he said tersely, hoping to bring an abrupt end to the conversation, "my- the children's governess."

"Wherever did you find such a thing?" The lieutenant pressed, his lecherous eyes still fixed firmly on Maria's lithe figure.

"Nonnberg," Georg gritted, reaching for a glass of much needed champagne from a passing tray and taking a larger gulp than would normally be deemed necessary.

"The abbey!" The lieutenant's eyes widened with incredulous delight, "You mean to say she's a-"

"Not yet," Georg replied irritably, predicting the question the lieutenant was undoubtedly going to ask about the Fraulein's vocation, "She won't be taking her vows until later this year. She's a postulant."

A low and devious chuckle rumbled in the leuitenant's throat, "I was going to say _virgin_ Georg, not nun," he grinned slyly, giving the captain a sharp nudge on the arm with his elbow, "though I suppose the two go hand in hand, do they not!"

Georg felt his temper flair dangerously and was immediately confronted with the inexplicable desire to ram his associate's head into the nearest wall. Lieutenant Dieter Waltz was - and always had been - a philandering rake. Georg had known him since his very first days in the navy, back when he himself had been a young and arrogant cadet who'd shared in Dieter's love for women, drink and shameless debauchery.

But that had been a very long time ago - and while Dieter's marriage some fifteen years earlier had done nothing to alter his penchant for drink and young women, Georg's own dear wife had turned him into a better man, and he'd never looked back since. In fact, he found such behaviour to be utterly deplorable now that he'd matured - though he had the good sense to know that it was none of his business what his contemporaries chose to do behind closed doors. Fraulein Maria though, was under his protection, and he had half a mind to grab his so-called friend by the neck and show him the door. But decorum also dictated that he maintain at least the illusion of indifference in matters concerning the help - so instead he simply raised an unamused eyebrow, "Yes, I imagine they do go hand in hand."

"Well, not if I have anything to do with it!" Dieter barked devilishly, far too busy staring at the so-called nymph to notice the dangerous shadow that had darkened his host's face. When the lieutenant raised his glass flirtatiously in Maria's direction, the captain's eyes immediately flew back to the terrace to find that Dieter had somehow managed to catch the Fraulein's attention. Much to his chagrin, she was smiling back at the scoundrel - though it was an awkward smile forced out of politeness, he noticed - one that didn't quite reach her eyes. It was startlingly different to the smile that had become so familiar to him in the past few weeks - a smile that seemed to speak a thousand words without her having to say anything at all.

Her face was so wonderfully expressive that even when she was trying to hide whatever she was thinking or feeling, he could read her as if she were an open book. Or perhaps not so much a book as a fascinating novel of contradictions that had him longing to turn the next page. It had become customary for him to understand her with nothing more than a look passing between them, silent conversations that seemed to take place when no one else was looking. A shared look when the children said something amusing, a knowing roll of the eyes when Max uttered something outrageous, a challenging raise of the eyebrow when one of them dared to tease the other. It had become second nature - almost like a game between them - to decipher what the other might be thinking.

Like right now for instance - she was trying her best to mask it - but to Georg it was strikingly obvious that Dieter's scrutiny was making her extremely uncomfortable. As an arrogant man however, Dieter thought otherwise.

"Ha, you see Georg?" The lieutenant grinned slyly, sending Maria a wink from across the room in response to her smile, "there's hope for me yet. The good lord knows I do love a challenge!"

Georg gave his own dangerous chuckle through gritted teeth, all the while fighting the building urge to wring the lieutenant's neck, "the good lord will most likely _smite you in your sleep_ if you so much as lay a finger on her."

He'd meant the threat to sound playful, witty, with just an edge of a subtle warning - but his tone must've entirely given him away, for Dieter suddenly tore his gaze from his unsuspecting prey and fixed Georg with a look of utter incredulity.

"My god," he scoffed, eyes wide, "you've dipped your rosary in the holy water haven't you!"

"Of course I haven't!" Georg spluttered, but to his mortification he felt himself reddening, "I would never do such a thing! And neither should you!"

Dieter guffawed with wicked triumph and wagged a knowing finger at his friend, "ahhh, you forget your reputation precedes you Georg. As does mine! But don't worry my friend," he tapped his nose with a grotesque wink and a sly grin, his words slightly slurred after another swig of champagne, "mum's the word. As long as you don't mind er... _sharing_ your little prize."

Georg had heard quite enough.

"Excuse me," he growled, depositing his empty glass on a nearby table with a heavy thud and turning abruptly on his heels before he did something he might later regret.

* * *

Maria knew Captain Von Trapp well enough by now to know that something had seriously irked him. Whatever his friend's concluding words had been, they'd resurrected the thunderous expression on her employer's face that Maria herself had been privy to all those weeks ago by the lake. To any other onlooker, he might've appeared contented, even amused by the topic of conversation with his old peer - but the sudden flash of rage that had flitted across his features had been unmistakable to Maria. It was nothing more than what her employer would call a momentary lapse, a rare and fleeting glimpse into what had really been playing on his mind. And with all the good grace expected of a man of his station, he'd recovered his composure almost instantly - but not before Maria had noticed.

She'd been trying her best to keep her eyes glued to the waltzing couples, the lavish outfits, the eloquent orchestra, the breathtaking chandeliers, and of course, her seven young charges - but if she was honest with herself, it was _him_ who'd held her attention for most of the evening. Dressed in a full suit and tailcoat with the Maria Theresian cross draped proudly around his neck, he looked every bit the fine and brave man the Reverend Mother had once described to her. He was larger than life, brilliant, imposing, and she was more than a little curious about how he would behave amongst his contemporaries. Fascinating was the word she'd use to describe him this evening, and maybe even a little intimidating - despite the fact that they'd fallen into an easy friendship of sorts these days. The passing of time and a change of heart had led them to an unspoken truce, an understanding... and yet - in some ways Captain Von Trapp was still every bit a riddle to her as he had been on the very first day they'd met.

She'd lost sight of him after he'd parted company with his friend, and since the children were preoccupied admiring the intricacies of the latest waltz, she allowed her eyes to sweep across the dance floor again, subconsciously seeking him out. Her breath caught when she finally found him - alone in a far corner of the room, leaning lightly against the wall with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms folded across his chest. _Brooding,_ she realised with a hint of a knowing smile.

His demeanour was casual but his eyes were stormy, his jaw rigid - the kind of mood that would have the baroness pouting disagreeably in an attempt to coax him back into the room - and Maria wondered again what his associate might've said to unsettle him so much. She would never tell a soul, but she secretly preferred her employer like this. It was true that when he was charming and witty and intelligent, he could command the attention of the whole room in a heartbeat if he so chose. But when he was like _this_ \- dark, quiet, pensive, dangerous, and entirely unaware of it - she couldn't deny that Captain von Trapp could be utterly devastating.

As host, he should've been mingling in polite company - Leisl had told her enough about the intricacies of social etiquette for her to understand the responsibilities that would come with throwing a party of this calibre - but instead he was trying to make himself inconspicuous, as though he'd rather shrink into the safety of the walls than be part of the surrounding soirée. And her heart began to beat just a little faster at the sight of him. She watched with curiosity from afar, trying not for the first time to decipher what could possibly be going through her employer's mind. His brow was knitted slightly and his eyes were glowering through the crowd with subtle determination burning behind his scowl. It was as though he were searching for someone.

 _Most likely the baroness,_ she thought, the most bizarre sinking feeling settling in her stomach.

But then, quite without warning, his eyes locked with hers.

She was knocked momentarily breathless by the intensity of his stare and her first instinct was to look away before he caught the sudden blush colouring her cheeks. But he held her gaze mercilessly, to the point that she was entirely unable to avert her eyes. Why did he always have to catch her off guard like that? Did he know she'd been staring the whole time? The very thought was enough to make her face burn again. He was unrelenting however, entirely refusing to break eye contact - and it wasn't long before they were having another one of their many silent conversations from across the room.

 _What?!_ She asked with a defensive shrug, desperate to break the palpable tension.

 _I'm not best pleased,_ his eyes replied, his jaw cocking to the side in frustration.

 _What have I done now!_ came the incredulous expression on her face by way of response.

He raised a sardonic eyebrow. _For once, Fraulein, you've done absolutely nothing!_

A subtle roll of her eyes. _So good of you to say so Captain!_ _  
_  
When his expression only darkened, the playfulness in her face was instead replaced with a frown of concern.

 _Is everything alright?_ Her eyes asked, _You seem-_

He gave a curt nod, though his heavy scowl remained. _Everything is fine, Fraulein._

But the uncertainty in her expression was so earnest that his eyes eventually softened, the previous hardness melting away to be replaced by something else. Something that set her pulse racing. _Everything really is fine, Fraulein. I promise._

They simply stood staring at each other then, the sudden intimacy of the moment almost too keen to bare. Long seconds passed as they remained rooted in place, as though they could see only each other through the intermittent haze of couples that separated them. Maria wondered briefly whether anybody else had noticed the sudden shift in the atmosphere between them, or whether it was something she was simply imagining. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd rendered her mute with nothing but a look. To her, it felt as though the entire earth was falling away under her feet.

The spell was abruptly broken however by the sudden appearance of the baroness at the captain's side, her perfectly manicured hand clutching at his forearm in an attempt to pull him into a dance. Maria held her breath, confronted with a startling pang of shame, but by a stroke of luck it seemed the baroness hadn't spotted her. The captain too seemed to snap to attention upon her arrival, a look of bewilderment flitting across his face as though he'd momentarily forgotten where he was. Maria watched mutely as they exchanged a few muttered words and it wasn't long before the aristocratic mask of Austria's most loved naval hero had slipped firmly back into place. Whisked off in the direction of the ballroom floor in a flurry of coat tails and golden skirts, there was no longer any sign of the shadow that had previously darkened the captain's face.

Within seconds, the couple had disappeared into the throng. He never looked back.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: time for some more tension! Enjoy x**

* * *

"I should like to think that if _I_ were a guest at a ball, I wouldn't take to swanning around and swooning at every handsome young man I saw!" Louisa scrunched up her nose in distaste, "It all seems rather silly if you ask me."

"Well no one _did_ ask you!" Leisl defended with a haughty sniff, her dreamy eyes returning to the glamorous scene playing out beyond the french doors, "And besides Louisa, you wouldn't recognise a handsome man if one came up and slapped you around the face!"

Brigitta interrupted with a mischievous giggle then, "if _Rolfe_ is anything to go by Leisl, I'd wager that neither would you!"

As the girls began to squabble back and forth about the many attributes that defined a handsome man, Maria found herself wondering whether _she_ would ever have the ability to recognise one herself. As Louisa had indirectly pointed out, the party had many young - and not so young - gentleman in attendance, plenty of whom were charming and eloquent and graceful - certainly the type of men that Leisl and many of her contemporaries would deem _fine looking_.

And while Maria could certainly appreciate that these men were dashing in their own way, with their chiselled faces and broad shoulders - it had become quite clear that none of them had the power to render her mute, nor to make her stomach flutter in that bizarre way she'd read about in romance novels. Their presence did not leave her breathless. Their gazes did not make her face catch fire. Nor did their crooked smiles intrude upon the deepest corners of her imagination.

Not like...

As her mutinous eyes once again fell to the captain, engaged in a dance with a friendly looking elderly woman, she wondered whether any other man could possibly be deemed handsome when _he_ was in the same room. Even his old associate, who'd been rather striking in his traditional good looks despite his overly-friendly stare from across the room, had paled in comparison to the formidable host stood beside him. No.. Maria admitted, it was not the _associate's_ stare earlier that evening that had raised goosebumps on her skin...

But then, such things didn't even bare thinking about. And besides, handsome men would be of no consequence in her life once she became a nun, she quickly reminded herself, lest she allowed her ridiculous thoughts to run away with her.

She was saved from her rather unsettling reverie by Friedrich who, always the peacemaker, chose that particular moment to interrupt his sisters' squabbling with a playful, sweeping bow directed at Louisa.

" _Enchante_ mademoiselle," he grinned boyishly, "May I have this dance?"

"Behold, Louisa!" Maria teased, forgetting her previous woes, " _here_ is your handsome young man - and he didn't have to slap you around the face either!"

The children all laughed while Louisa rolled her eyes, though with a small smile pulling at her lips. It was with only minor reluctance that she eventually took her brother's hand and followed him to the centre of the terrace, their siblings and governess turning to watch their performance. Within minutes, all seven of the Von Trapp children were dancing and laughing in a series of silly group steps, Maria sharing in their amusement from her place of observation by the doors. All previous arguments had seemingly been forgotten and their innocent laughter helped to ground Maria, reminding her of her true purpose.

 _This is why I'm here,_ she told herself, her heart swelling with affection as she watched her charges, _to show these children the way._ _  
_  
"Your smile is as delightful up close as it is from afar, my dear."

Startled, Maria looked to her left to find the captain's friend occupying the space next to her, his eyes dancing with a hint of mild amusement. Bewildered she said nothing, glancing at the children in the hopes that they'd somehow rescue her, but they were still too preoccupied in their play to notice the new arrival.

The gentleman took her silence as his cue.

"Lieutenant Dieter Waltz," he purred with an exaggerated bow to rival Friedrich's, "of the Austro-Hungarian Imperial Navy."

It took every ounce of willpower for Maria not to roll her eyes.

"And you are...?"

"Fraulein Maria," she replied sardonically, "of the Von Trapp household staff."

He gave a mirthful chuckle, following her eye line to watch the children in their musings.

"I do hope it wasn't _you_ who taught them how to waltz," he teased just as Friedrich accidentally trod on Brigitta's foot, eliciting a cry of outrage from the girl, while Kurt stumbled over his own shoelaces.

"No," she laughed despite herself, "though I'm not so sure I'd fair much better. It's been a rather long time since I've danced with a partner."

Briefly, she thought back to her not-so-private interlude with an invisible gentleman in this very same ballroom not too many weeks ago, when she'd first met the daunting captain Von Trapp. He'd seemed larger than life back then, when he'd slammed open those heavy doors, his intimating silhouette darkening the entire room. How things had changed since then.

"Then I must insist that you allow me the honour of rectify that immediately," the lieutenant interrupted her thoughts with a glowing smile.

"What?" She blurted, taken aback by the unexpected offer.

"Would you grant me the honour of a dance, Fraulein?"

"Oh no," she shook her head firmly, I couldn't possibly."

The truth was, she didn't much like the way the lieutenant was looking at her and didn't want to spend any more time in his company.

"I can assure you that you're not the only one very much in want of a dance partner," he leaned in a little closer, a challenging eyebrow raised in the hopes of persuading her.

She gave a weak smile, "Perhaps a little later."

"You know," he persisted, moving away from her and straightening again, much to Maria's relief, "it's a terrible insult to refuse a gentleman a dance."

His demeanour was playful but there was a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I assure you I mean no disrespect. I simply can't leave my charges unattended."

It was then that Maria realised, with relief, that they'd garnered the attention of the children, who'd stopped what they were doing to watch the exchange curiously.

"Perhaps your eldest charge would do me the honour then," the lieutenant beamed smugly, turning his effective smile on to the first born von Trapp, "Leisl isn't it?"

Leisl stepped forward hopefully, her eyes glowing with pride at having such attention bestowed upon her, and by an older man.

"Absolutely out of the question!" Maria protested, outraged.

The girl's face fell.

"Come Leisl," the Lieutenant offered his hand, entirely ignoring Maria's response, "I insist-"

"Leisl, stay precisely where you are!" Maria commanded, but much to her horror, her eldest charge was already gravitating eagerly towards the proffered hand.

"Surely a girl of her age doesn't need a governess to make her decisions for her," Lieutenant Waltz challenged smugly, "She's almost a grown woman, after all."

"She's only sixteen!"

" _Fraulein_!" Leisl cried, mortified.

"Your father will surely have me keelhauled!"

The lieutenant gave an arrogant scoff.

"Leave captain von Trapp to _me_ ," he retorted, throwing a wink in Leisl's direction.

" _I'll_ go!" Maria conceded desperately, glaring furiously at the triumphant lieutenant. In truth it was the last thing in the world she wanted to agree to, but she was willing to do just about anything to avoid the captain's wrath. It didn't bare thinking about what might happen to her if her employer were to discover his daughter in the arms of a man more than twice her age!

"But _Fraulein_!" Liesl whined.

"You stay right here and mind your brothers and sisters," the girl couldn't hide her disappointment, "I'll be just a few minutes."

Taking the lieutenant's arm with reluctance, Maria allowed herself to be led inside and towards the dance floor, cursing her unfathomable ability to always get herself into trouble and praying that she'd remain inconspicuous as far as all the other guests were concerned.

"It really isn't appropriate for me to dance with one of the guests," she argued haughtily, wishing she could wipe the infuriating smirk from the lieutenant's face.

"Ah yes," he grinned deviously as the previous song ended and the orchestra prepared their instruments for the next ballad, "I can imagine it will displease our host _greatly_."

"That, and because of the nature of my vocation. I'm a-"

"Postulant," he confirmed, "Yes. Your dear captain told me. You take your vows later this year."

 _Her_ dear captain? She was just as surprised to hear such a remark as she was to discover that the captain had told the lieutenant anything about her at all. What else had he said about her, she wondered.

"But if you might permit me to say," Waltz interrupted her thoughts as they took their positions, "you may be a postulant, but you're not dead yet! Perhaps.. live a little."

"I can assure you that a dance with a lieutenant will add very _little_ to my life whatsoever," she retorted coldly.

The dance began and she was grateful to discover it was a simple foxtrot, the steps of which she vaguely remembered from childhood and a dance that required very little effort on her part.

The lieutenant gave a bombastic raw of laughter in response to her little barb.

"An absolute spitfire!" He guffawed as they twirled, "I have half a mind to assume the captain is watching us for _my_ protection, not yours!"

Alarmed, Maria's eyes followed the lieutenant's to find the captain standing by the wayside, tall and arresting amidst the hubbub of activity. It seemed he'd decided to sit this dance out and an older white haired gentleman was trying to engage him in conversation. But it seemed he was failing miserably for the captain wasn't listening to a single word. Instead, his eyes were fixed firmly on Maria and her dance partner, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Her stomach instantly tightened.

"He seems to care an awful lot about your whereabouts.." the lieutenant pressed.

Maria turned back to him, suddenly flustered, her pulse quickening, "He's just angry that I'm fraternising with his guests instead of watching the children," she tried to convince herself as much as her dance partner, "I'm _breaking the rules_."

"Ha! Indeed. And tell me," he asked, "do you often break the rules?"

Maria caught a glimpse of the captain again as they spun into his line of vision. He was still staring, and the realisation made her shudder involuntarily. She was surely in deep trouble.

"More often than the captain would like," she confessed, not caring much for the lieutenant's line of questioning.

"How _delightfu_ l!" He grinned gleefully, "A vivacious little thing like you must be driving him up the walls my dear! Though it has to be said that the hypocrite was once an avid rule breaker himself."

Despite herself, Maria couldn't quite mask her curiosity.

"Ah yes!" The lieutenant continued triumphantly, noting her sudden interest, "Our days in the navy were quite a... _carnal_ experience - and he was the most outrageous cadet of all! Do not let him fool you into thinking he's a saint, my dear."

"Far from it," she tried to appear unaffected with a dismissive shrug, "he has his faults just like the rest of us mortals."

"Indeed," Waltz gave a knowing smirk, "In fact I can confirm first hand that our heroic captain has, on more than one occasion, been guilty of pride, wrath, lust... "

Maria chanced a glance at the captain again to find his face had become etched with undeniable anger.

"And envy.." the lieutenant finished pointedly, "and yet they are all unforgivable sins, are they not?"

She swallowed hard.

"We are all capable of sin," she defended, tearing her eyes from her employer, "and it is the Lord's choice as to whether we are to be forgiven. All I can say on the subject is that the captain is a good man," she added proudly, "the most honourable man I know, in fact."

"Is that so?"

"Well he is known in all of Austria as a fine and brave hero, is he not?"

"And yet," the lieutenant added meaningfully, "as you said yourself... he is only _morta_ l. Just like the rest of us."

Much to Maria's comfort, the dance finally came to an end and she was saved from having to provide the lieutenant with a response by the light titter of applause that broke out around the room. It seemed that by some miracle she hadn't drawn too much attention to herself and she had every intention of slipping back out onto the safety of the terrace, unnoticed. But it seemed that God had other plans, for just as she was about to heave a sigh of relief, she saw something large and imposing thundering towards them out of the corner of her eye.

That something, it turned out, was a very dangerous looking captain von Trapp.

Maria's stomach plummeted into her shoes.

"You can put down your weapons, Georg!" the lieutenant chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender as the captain approached, "I simply wouldn't take no for an answer, and she was merely being polite. She spent the entire time singing _your_ praises in fact. Something about your being a fine and brave man…"

The sudden look of surprise on the captain's face was only fleeting, but it was enough to make Maria's cheeks burn with embarrassment. He too seemed uncharacteristically bashful all of a sudden, staring awkwardly down as his shoes.

"Yes well," he cleared his throat acidly a few seconds later, his back straightening, "Your _wife_ is looking for you lieutenant. And at any rate -" he turned to Maria, his face an unreadable mask. Her heart sank. "- I think it's time the children were introduced to some of my guests."

The lieutenant at least had the good grace to look sheepish as he muttered a feeble farewell before slipping away and out of sight.

Maria dared to look at her employer then and immediately wished she hadn't, for the expression on his face had changed to one that made her chest ache with remorse. He dark blue eyes looked surprisingly distressed and he was regarding her with a bizarre hint of .. was it _hurt_ she could see in his eyes? _Impossible_ , she chastised herself, _you are imagining things yet again!_

"The children fraulein.." he murmured quietly, returning his gaze to the floor.

"Yes..." she stammered, suddenly mortified, unable to bear his disappointment a moment longer, "Yes of course. Please, do excuse me."

And with that, she scurried for the refuge of the terrace, away from his disarming gaze.

* * *

 **A/N: I know there's lots of dialogue and scene setting for the time being but rest assured it's all going somewhere. Please do let me know if you like it so I know I'm not wasting my time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: chapter three is up! Time to build some more delicious tension. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

With squabbling children, leering lieutenants, an unwanted foxtrot and - most regretfully - the wrath of her employer still playing heavily on her mind, Maria was becoming increasingly more desperate to find just two minutes of solitude. After excusing herself from the dance floor and hurrying back to her charges, she'd just about managed to regain her composure enough to breathlessly inform them that they were being summoned by their father.

"Why?" Louisa asked after a few moment's pause, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"So that he can introduce you to his peers, of course!"

When the children did nothing but glance at each other uneasily, she put her hands on her hips with an amused smile beginning to tug at her lips.

"Surely you don't mean to say that the infamous von Trapp brood has suddenly gone shy on me?"

"It's not that.." Brigitta insisted, though she peered wearily through the French doors before looking down at the floor again, "it's just-"

"We want you to come with us Fraulein!" Marta's little voice chimed in from her sister's side. Her siblings all nodded in agreement then and Maria suddenly felt awfully touched by their sincerity. These were the very same children, after all, who'd tried to chase her from the house with a _precious gif_ t in the form of a frog in her pocket - the same children who'd terrorised every governess that had walked through the door. And yet she could tell that they'd made the request not so much to give _themselves_ courage, but to ensure that their fraulein wouldn't be left for too long to navigate the labyrinth of their complex world alone. It seemed, she realised with a smile, that she'd come to rely on them as much as they did her.

* * *

At that precise moment Georg von Trapp, having grown exceedingly restless attempting to mingle, decided to make his _own_ way to the terrace in pursuit of his children. He couldn't fathom what could possibly be taking them so long, and if he was being completely honest with himself, far too many minutes had passed without him having caught sight of the fraulein.

No, he thought bitterly - it was not his _children's_ whereabouts that worried him. They knew this world only too well after all - they'd been prepared for it from the cradle in fact. But not everyone would be so at ease in such surroundings...

Unwelcome visions of dashing young men approaching his governess for the honour of a second dance were already forcing themselves to the forefront of his mind, and it was enough to make his feet develop a will of their own, marching him to the terrace entirely of their own accord. It was all he could do not to push people out of the way! But he would later tell himself it was because his children were dawdling, and he'd simply grown impatient waiting for them to present themselves.

When he _did_ finally reach the French doors he was greeted by the sight of Maria - _of course_ , he berated himself, _where else would she have been_ \- along with his seven children, who were looking uncharacteristically nervous about something. He watched curiously, skulking back in the shadows as the fraulein took a step closer to his brood, the bizarre desire to hear what she was about to say stopping him from making himself known just yet.

"Look," she addressed them softly, her eyes warm but her voice firm, "you are the children of Austria's most renowned naval hero. The strapping young men and fine young ladies who form the next generation of von Trapps!" She said this while scuffing Kurt affectionately in his middle, causing the boy to double over with an infectious laugh. Georg chuckled too, despite himself - though he remained undiscovered.

"You are an absolute credit to your father," she stated while they grinned sheepishly at her praise, "I don't think he's ever been more proud of you. And you ought to be proud of him too."

"For all his medals!" Kurt beamed.

"Well yes," Maria laughed, "but also because he is a wonderful father, is he not?"

The irritation Georg had been feeling all evening suddenly gave way to an instant and unexpected swell of affection. He was deeply touched, entirely astonished, and more than a little humbled by her words. Plenty of people had sung his praises throughout his lifetime - simpering women with flirtatious smiles and pompous men with a clap on the back - but no one had ever sounded quite so earnest in their compliments as she did. Surely his children were a credit to _her,_ if anyone - and he was about to step into the light to tell her exactly that, when-

"Father!" It was little Gretl who spotted him first, running over to wrap her arms around his legs. The other children moved to surround him too, but not before he noticed the look of horror on the fraulein's face as she whirled around to discover him there, her mouth open and her face colouring beetroot.

"Captain!" She exclaimed, her hand flying to her hair, "how... how long have you been standing there?"

His eyes met hers over the top of Brigitta's head.

"Long enough.." he replied softly, and she felt her stomach bottom out once again. Agonising seconds of impenetrable silence seemed to pass before she finally managed to find her voice.

"I... I was just preparing the children for their introductions.." she stammered, feeling breathless but managing a smile all the same, "they're a little nervous."

She was saved from his disarming grin when he broke eye contact to ruffle Kurt's hair with a chuckle of affection, "now what on earth would the _strapping young men and fine young ladies who form the next generation of von Trapps_ have to be nervous about, hmm?"

He wasn't quite sure what had possessed him to say it, but his sudden good mood had him feeling rather mischievous, and in truth it was always far too tempting to tease her - just a little bit - knowing he'd see that delightful blush creep up her neck. He flashed her a knowing look full of amusement then - a look that left her in absolutely no doubt that the scoundrel had heard every single word she'd said. And now, Maria realised with outrage, he was absolutely revelling in her discomfort. One minute he was a raging bull and the next he'd taken to teasing her! The man was as insufferable as he was captivating... and she had half a mind to kiss that infuriating smirk from his face.

 _Slap!_ She corrected herself hurriedly, _I meant slap!_

"Will you be alright, Fraulein?" Friedrich turned to her then with all the chivalry of a gentleman in the making.

 _I don't know,_ she thought helplessly, acutely aware of the captain's eyes still upon her, _will I?_ _  
_  
But instead she gave a reassuring nod accompanied by what she hoped was an unaffected smile, "I'll be absolutely fine Friedrich.." she gestured towards the doors with a final salute, "now go on.. I won't be far away!" And then, with impulsive boldness, she added sardonically, "Just remember, all of you, to _breathe deeply_."

Though she refused to give her employer the satisfaction of looking at him, Maria was fairly certain - as she turned away in an attempt to hide her mirth - that his eyebrows had shot up to meet his perfectly combed hairline.

* * *

After sending the children off into the aristocratic battlefield with their father to captain them, Maria took the rare opportunity to find an appropriate sanctuary in which to gather her scattered thoughts. Knowing the terrace might very well be a hotbed for unwelcome lieutenants, she decided to step out into the foyer to catch her breath and was relieved to find that no lingering guests remained in the villa's expansive entranceway.

Basking in the welcome quietude - after all, the party had been rather overwhelming - she twirled around in a slow circle, considering the many empty rooms she could take cover in. A few weeks ago she would've been forbidden from entering any of them, she thought with a wistful smile, but since the captain's change of heart it seemed she was now rather spoiled for choice!

 _The library_ , she decided firmly - and not just because it was quiet - but because it had become her favourite room in the villa. Stepping inside, she felt herself instantly relax as she took in her surroundings. The dark, imposing mahogany bookcases had looked rather intimidating the first time she'd stumbled upon them in all their magnificent glory many weeks ago, but she'd soon discovered that they harboured all manner of breathtaking, passionate, raw tales of adventure and heartache and sorrow - a contrast that continuously held her spellbound, and perhaps reminded her a little _too_ strikingly of someone she ought not to be thinking about...

Maybe _that_ was why she harboured such a fondness for this particular sanctuary. After all, it had often been said that a room as personal as a library could reveal a lot about an individual's character - the decor, the kind of books they read, the detailed organisation - and she'd often found herself coming to the library in an attempt to make sense of its curious owner - though of course, she'd never admit it to herself. In truth, she found the space comforting, familiar somehow-

"I've been meaning to ask you Fraulein, is it to be every time you dance in my ballroom that it's with someone _other_ than the host himself?"

Maria gave an undignified yelp and nearly jumped out of her skin as she whirled around to face her intruder - though the baritone voice and the hairs prickling on the back of her neck told her there was only one person it could possibly be. And sure enough there he was, leaning tall and casual against the doorframe with a wicked glint in his eye, looking almost too handsome to be of this world.

"At least this time your partner was not _invisible_ ," he pointed out with a devilish grin dimpling his feature, referencing the very first time they'd met.

" _Ohhh_ , why must you always do that!" She scowled with indignation, annoyed at herself more than anything for her distinct lack of composure whenever this man happened to be near.

"Do what?" He replied innocently.

"Sneak up on me like that! Why is it that you can't just.. just _knock_?!"

He smirked then as though he were thoroughly enjoying himself, both of them acutely aware of how ridiculous it was for her to insist that he knock in his own library.

Much to his amusement, she gave an adorably outraged little huff in response to his raised eyebrow, "you know what I mean! Just.. make yourself known - " she insisted with an impatient flap of her hands, "so I don't have to jump out of my skin every time."

"Now where on earth would be the fun in that Fraulein?"

He managed to keep his expression deadpan for only a second before a boyish grin spread wide across his face, and it was so infuriatingly infectious that Maria couldn't fight the mirthful smile that began to tug at her own lips.

" _Ohhh you_ \- !" she chastised, though she no longer bothered to hide her amusement as they chuckled together.

A few seconds later the gaiety had dissipated and awkwardness had settled upon them, as though they'd both only just remembered who they were - or rather, who they were _supposed_ to be: he nothing more than her employer and she nothing more than his governess. It was a cycle they'd repeat often these days - moments of good humour followed by an abrupt silence during which they'd avoid eye contact, suddenly all too aware of their over-familiarity. More often than not, an interruption by one of the children would be their saving grace. But her charges were nowhere to be seen this time.

"Where are the children?" She blurted suddenly, grateful to have found a safer topic of conversation to break the unbearable tension.

"Oh, just mingling," he joked with a shrug, equally relieved by the abrupt change in subject, "you've created seven excellent little socialites fraulein - they've proven to be the talk of the party!" But uh.. " he added with mock authority, "I'm afraid I must insist that you return to your line of duty, as it were."

She smiled again then, grateful that the air between them was no longer quite so thick, "Yes, of course captain!"

But rather than move aside to free the doorway for her, he simply eyed her quizzically for a moment, and she was suddenly confronted with the bizarre desire to address him by his first name. Not sir, not captain, but-

 _Georg... what is it?_

"Just why were you hiding away in here anyway Fraulein?" He asked softly, startling her with the realisation that he could surely read her mind. Ohhh why did he always have to discover her in places she ought not to be!

"I... I needed a new book!" she lied, turning away from him and grappling for the first hardback she could find on the bookshelf, thumbing emphatically through its pages, "something to read when I retire tonight-"

To her absolute dismay, the captain strode purposefully into the room and sidled right up behind her, peering curiously over her left shoulder to get a better look at the book laying open in her shaking palms. He wasn't so much as a single centimetre closer to her than propriety demanded, and yet the sudden shift in the atmosphere was overwhelming. Unlike anyone else, he seemed to possess the remarkable ability to make her feel things that were entirely new and dangerous, especially on the rare occasions that they were alone - and now that he was so painfully close, she could feel his startling proximity as palpably as if they were stood skin to skin.

"Kipling.." came his low murmur after torturous seconds, his breath unbearably hot against the soft skin her neck.

She clutched at the book harder, her traitorous eyes fluttering closed against the dizzying sensation, "What?" She rasped, hardly daring to move, her voice so unlike her own.

He reached around ever so slowly, careful not to touch her, and pointed to the open page, his strong fingers tracing a delicate path along the title of the poem that was etched there. His sleeve brushed agonisingly against her forearm and her breath caught in her throat when he finally spoke in a timber she'd never quite heard before.

" _To the Unknown Goddess,_ by Rudyard Kipling.."

Daring to open her eyes, she willed herself to focus on the page for the first time since opening the volume, her pulse hammering at the sight of his long fingers - _oh so close to her own_ \- moving elegantly over the poem's verses. The book looked worn, her clouded mind noticed vaguely, like it had been read many times by its owner...

Suddenly, his hand came to a halt at a certain line, as though those words in particular held sentimental meaning.

" _When the light of your eyes shall make pallid the mean lesser lights I pursue_.." he whispered solemnly, the silky tendrils of his voice coiling peculiarly around her heart and making her forget who she was, _where_ she was.

"It's funny.." he whispered, though his voice was tender, pensive, deep in the shell of her ear, "That line always seems to remind me of you.."

Flames unfurled in her stomach when she felt his other hand, light as a feather, come to rest on her lower back. Surely this couldn't be happening to _her.._

A distant titter from a group of passing guests in the hallway brought them hurtling back to reality and she felt him still abruptly behind her - though he made no move to step away. Words seemed to evade them both, the only sound the hum of their laboured breathing - a silent understanding somehow hanging thick between them that they had drifted into dangerous and uncharted waters, that the boundaries of their relationship had shifted in a way that could never be undone. Every accidental touch, every shared smile or heated dispute that had ever passed between them - it all came to a head in this one single moment, alone in the library with nothing between them but unfamiliar anticipation.

Eventually he let his hands drop to his sides with a heavy sigh, his shoes clicking resolutely against the floorboards as he took a step back and away from her…

"A fine poet," he muttered, as she forced her hands to close the book with finality, "but alas.. the party awaits Fraulein."

* * *

 **A/N: yay or no? delicious or not your cup of tea? (with jam and bread, obvs). I adore to hear your feedback so please do let me know! x**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: thank you for all the wonderful reviews so far!**

 **I thought long and hard about whether to include the laendler at all in this story or to just elude to it – it's been written so beautifully by so many different fic writers – but I decided it's integral to the storyline. So I've included it. Again, it's all going somewhere but do let me know if it's getting boring. It'll all come to something very soon!**

* * *

Georg von Trapp was considerably shaken, and for very good reason. After all, he had crossed an invisible line, broken an unspoken rule, thrown caution to the wind, and - as was completely out of sync with his character - acted entirely on impulse. He _never_ acted on impulse! Strategy and planning had always been his best mode of survival - such military organisation had saved him from many a life threatening situation on multiple occasions when time had been of the essence. He had a cabinet full of medals from the emperor to prove it!

Whichever veritable force of nature it was that had possessed him to invade the fraulein's personal space like that, it was not one he had ever come across before. He'd always been a man in control of any situation. All he knew was that he'd suddenly been confronted with a burning compulsion just to be close to her. A compulsion that struck him more and more often these days, whenever she said something particularly amusing, whenever she smiled in that bright and refreshing way she always did, whenever he'd catch her admiring him from afar when she thought he wasn't watching. But he was _always_ watching...

Perhaps _that_ was what had been so disconcerting: the fact that she had not shied away from him. He'd been almost unforgivably close to her, so close that only half an inch more and his lips would've grazed the warm skin where neck met shoulder. So close that a further step would've allowed him to slip his arms around her waist and pull her flush against him. But instead of jumping away from him and babbling awkwardly through her next sentence - in that enchanting way she always did whenever he caught her off guard - she had leant into him ever so slightly, her back arching, her eyelids fluttering - and he'd been utterly captivated by her.

His own behaviour hadn't come as a _complete_ surprise - after all, he was old enough and wise enough, for Christ sake, to understand that he found the fraulein somewhat appealing. And there were times when he was fairly certain that she was attracted to him too, though of course she would hardly be aware of it. There were hints of it in the guileless smiles she greeted him with, in the affectionate encouragement she'd give him regarding the children, in the way she'd lose her patience with him when he was being particularly difficult.

He'd considered the whole matter to be fairly harmless, given her vocation and his decided future. And surely, that's exactly what their encounter in the library had been: completely harmless. He hadn't forced himself upon her, she hadn't fallen helplessly into his arms, they hadn't lost control and ravished each other up against the nearest bookcase - they'd simply shared in the enjoyment of a poem, for goodness sake.

 _No_ , he decided firmly, it was absolutely nothing to be concerned about - propriety had not been compromised in any way and that's all there was to it. He would simply be more careful from now on. Indeed, he would not linger on the matter for a single moment longer.

And yet... the resulting tension as they walked back towards the ballroom in silence was almost too keen to bear, he taking a particular interest in the foyer's ceiling, and she staring resolutely at her shoes. He wrung his white gloves in his fists, wondering whether the awkwardness would ever dissipate, whether they'd remain suspended in discomfort for the rest of time - but she must've taken pity on the both of them, for she broke the silence by clearing her throat bravely.

"Captain?"

"Hmm?" He stopped and turned to face her a few feet away from the ballroom doors, trying his best to appear unaffected.

"I uh.. I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier.."

His brow furrowed.

" _Behaviour_ fraulein?"

She chewed her lip, focusing on the Maria Theresa cross around his neck, "Lieutenant Waltz..."

"Ah yes," he retorted with a bitter chuckle, "my old friend and _your_ handsome dance partner.."

" _I_ certainly didn't think him handsome!" She blurted suddenly, and then blushed scarlet when she caught his amusement, shifting her eyes down at the floor again.

"You've met many a handsome man on which to base your comparison, fraulein?" He teased, "I don't imagine there are many at the abbey…"

The minute he mentioned the abbey he regretted it, for it seemed that she shrank even further into herself out of a bizarre sense of guilt or shame, and suddenly the air was thick between them again.

"Regardless.. " she forged bravely on, "I did not think him handsome and I would certainly not want _you_ to think so.."

His heart fluttered peculiarly, "oh?"

"No. As a postulant and… and your employee I should never have consorted with your guests like that.. it was most inappropriate," she wrung her hands in front of her skirts agitatedly, "It's just that... well, the lieutenant really _wouldn't_ take no for an answer and I-"

"You have absolutely nothing to apologise for-" he interrupted, taking an involuntary step closer.

"But I really shouldn't have imposed-"

He held up a firm hand to silence her, though when he spoke the words came out far softer than he intended.

"You could _never_ impose, Fraulein."

She simply stared at him then, her eyes shining with unabashed gratitude, and after a few seconds he had to look away.

"And uh.. since we're on the subject of Dieter.. " he added, rubbing his ear sheepishly, "what he said earlier about you defending my honour.. It uh.. well it meant a great deal to me."

"It was only the truth, sir."

There it was again, that inexplicable need to be close to her...

"Thank you," he whispered.

They began meandering towards the ballroom again, this time in a more companionable silence.

"I do have to admit-" Maria laughed a few moments later, her tone light, "that, despite the circumstances, I suppose it _was_ rather nice to be twirled around on a dance floor like that for the first time. No doubt it will be also be the last!"

"Is that so fraulein.." he eyed her curiously, the hint of a smirk playing about his mouth again.

"Well yes," she stammered, "I'm going to be a nun, am I not?"

He said nothing - only considering her pensively for a moment before awkwardly clearing his throat, "Yes... Yes, of course.."

Tearing his eyes away, he turned to the ballroom doors and gestured through to the hubbub beyond, "uh.. shall we?"

* * *

"What's that they're playing?" Brigitta inquired, peering through the glass doors curiously.

"It's the Ländler. It's an Austrian folk dance," Maria explained.

Kurt stepped forward imploringly, his face glowing, "show me?"

"Oh, Kurt, I haven't danced that since I was a little girl."

"Oh, you remember." He insisted, "Please."

"Well –" Maria paused reluctantly - she'd only just apologised to the captain for dancing with one of the guests. Surely she couldn't dance with one of his sons too?

 _"Please."_

Ohh where would be the harm in it really, she concluded with a shrug, the boy was only eleven! And about as different from a pompous lieutenant as chalk and cheese. Besides, one look at that face and she really had no choice in the matter.

"All right, come on over here." They took to their positions and the other children gathered to watch, the eldest perhaps remembering the dance from long ago, and the youngest eager to see what it was all about.

"Now, you bow and I curtsy," she guided, while the boy swept low in a movement to rival his father. _He will surely grow to be just like him.._ she thought.

"Good! Now, we go for a little walk - this way," she took the boy's hands and began the simplistic movements of the modest folk dance, but it soon became apparent their differences in height would pose a slight problem.

"This way. Hop, step, hop, and under… uh –"

She strained backwards most inelegantly, trying hard to keep hold of the boy's hands, but it was clearly no use! The rest of the children giggled mercilessly at their brother's expense.

"Oh Kurt!" She laughed hopelessly, "We'll have to practice!"

But to his credit the boy held on determinedly, the two of them locked in a struggle, until-

"Do allow me will you?"

Her stomach plummeted into her shoes.

In years to come, Maria would look back on this very moment and still find it hard to believe that it really happened. Surely it was nothing more than one of her girlish fantasies, one of those intensely private daydreams that she would allow herself to indulge in on the odd occasion that her thoughts would wander too far in _his_ direction - only to repeat a dozen Hail Mary's later on while crouched at the foot of her bed. Surely he was not really here, this was not really happening. Not to her. Not with _him._

But sure enough, there he stood, tall, regal, charming - a white gloved hand extended in her direction and a challenging smile on his lips. She was confronted with none of the feelings she'd experienced when approached by the lieutenant - none of the reluctance, none of the apprehension, none of the discomfort.. only a peculiar fluttering low in the pit of her stomach.

 _Perhaps your first dance doesn't also have to be your last after all Fraulein_ , his eyes sparkled mischievously.

Well, what could she possibly do but accept him? A more cautious woman might've hesitated a moment longer. A more sensible woman would've politely declined and returned to the safety of her charges. A more guarded woman might've taken as fare warning whatever it was that had happened in the library...

But without so much as another thought, she slipped her hand into his...

Georg ought to have known better, he knew. After all, had he not told himself but an hour ago to be more careful when it came to the Fraulein? And yet, when he'd found her in an adorable tangle on the terrace with his youngest son, he simply hadn't been able to resist. And not only that, but the thought of Maria's only real dance being with someone as despicable as Dieter Waltz left a particularly bad taste in his mouth. She deserved far more than that scoundrel had offered her - she deserved to be respected, admired.. cherished. She deserved to be twirled and spun and freed… she deserved so much more than a life locked up in cloister. For someone so full of life and soul and joy, it seemed like such a terrible waste, he thought. And while he could do nothing to alter that particular fate, he could surely save her from the memory of a mediocre dance with a mediocre lieutenant.

As the steps began, Maria expected to feel at least a little hint of trepidation, the way she often did whenever the captain caught her unawares - but instead she felt lighthearted, carefree, joyful even. And it didn't take her long to realise that it was because, first and foremost, she _trusted_ the man who was leading her - perhaps more than she'd ever trusted anyone – save perhaps for the Reverend Mother. Whatever had happened with lieutenant Waltz, whatever had taken place in the library, whatever bizarre feelings she'd had to confront over the last few weeks - none of it mattered anymore as they hopped, skipped and turned across the terrace. _She was safe._

In a daze, she let the music and the Captain's hands on her waist guide her through the movements, the two of them sharing in a humble smile when they managed a particularly intricate step. Moments later, she danced around him to the rhythm of his claps before pausing in a flurry of skirts to allow him to do the same. The whole thing was just so effortless, so natural, so easy, that it felt as though they'd danced this dance together a thousand times before - and Maria marvelled at the fact that she hadn't yet tripped, stumbled, staggered or floundered as she undoubtedly would've done under so many other circumstances! Yes, she thought with a smile, she was having a rather marvellous time!

But her gaiety was short-lived. As she reached for the captain's shoulder, her exhilaration was replaced by a simmering anxiety low in her stomach as she remembered what was to come. Instantly she felt the heat rising in her cheeks, and when she turned into the arches of his arms, she was shocked to discover that his face bore the same intensity she felt.

Immediately she fixed her eyes to the cross at his neck, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest as she became acutely aware of his eyes boring into her. In the library she'd _felt_ his proximity, she'd _felt_ the intensity - but she'd been saved from the turmoil of having to look him in the eye. Now, however - pressed against him so close that they were surely sharing a breath, it was all she could do to keep her gaze firmly away from his face.

But it was no use, she knew - she could no more shun him than she could will herself to stop breathing. And so she looked, despite her anguish. She _looked_ \- and could hardly dare to believe what she saw. The entire terrace pulsed with a new and dangerous charge, her head was reeling, and time seemed to stand still, the fierce tenderness burning in his eyes leaving her dizzy with exhilaration and fear.

The dance long forgotten, they stood clinging to each other as if frozen to the spot and she wondered whether her eyes portrayed the overwhelming feelings that were coursing through her. Suddenly painfully aware of her vulnerability, she took a step back, her hands slipping from his, though his disarming gaze still held her captive.

"I don't remember any more," she breathed, willing her heart to stop beating. It seemed that, for once, he had no answer for her - not a reprimand, not a quip, not a single teasing remark. In fact he looked as dumbstruck as she felt - and Brigitta's sudden interruption was both a God-send and a bittersweet torment.

"Your face is all red."

"Is it?!" Maria cried, her hands flying to her face, "I suppose I'm not used to dancing."

He smiled reassuringly then, with the slightest hint of tenderness that bathed her lower back in warmth. But she had no time to consider its meaning, for, to her utter dismay, the baroness made a timely appearance. And before she knew it, before she could make sense of what had just come to pass on the terrace with her employer - the socialite was tugging him back into the ballroom and Maria was hurrying out of sight, seven excitable Von Trapps hot on her heels.

* * *

 **A/N: I do hope I could do the laendler justice!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: thank you all for sticking with me and waiting patiently for the fireworks, which I promise are on the way! This is the last tension building chapter before the meaty stuff!**

* * *

 _"I flit, I float, I fleetly flee, I fly.."_ _  
_  
Maria couldn't be prouder of her charges as they charmed the guests with the melody she'd taught them - but she had to admit to herself that she couldn't focus on a single note, nor a single lyric. Her mind was still reeling from her encounter with the captain. _Why had he done it? Why had he asked her to dance?_ He'd dared to breach the boundaries of social etiquette and what had ensued was a whirlwind of emotions she didn't dare think about. Except it was _all_ she could think about, her mind consumed with thoughts of the way he had looked at her - as though he were seeing her, _really seeing her_ , for the very first time.

And it was not only the way he'd looked at her, but the way it'd made her feel. Oh, how her heart had pounded! How her chest had ached with anticipation, her nerves dancing with adrenaline through every limb. It had felt like electricity, heat bathing her spine and spreading all over, as though her body was imprinting the memory of him onto every one of her senses - the smell of cedarwood and masculinity, the security of strong, gloved fingers, the comfort of midnight blue irises, the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.

It had been the most terrifying and altogether wonderful experience she'd ever encountered. And she would treasure it always for what it had been: a simple laendler on the terrace with a noble sea captain. To dwell on it any further would be to confront things she simply couldn't think about. And so she resolved to concentrate on the performance in front of her, finding a guiding light in her charges' youthful voices raised in song.

But like a compass pointing north, her eyes eventually sought him out from her place of security behind a marble pillar, and she was floored to discover that he was gazing directly at her through the sea of ballgowns and tailcoats. Mercifully, every other eye in the room remained fixed on the performance, but if anyone else were to notice the silent interchange taking place between the host and his governess, they would surely be in no doubt as to what they were witnessing: yearning, longing, _desire_.. perhaps even adoration, though it would remain unclear as to whether the two parties were even aware of it themselves. Torturously long seconds seemed to pass with their eyes locked, and Maria had to steady herself against the cool marble when it became apparent that neither of them were going to look away.

Gretl's solo ended a few moments later and the room was immediately abuzz with chatter again, the world suddenly coming into focus as they came back to themselves, tearing their eyes away from one another. Hoping to make a quick exit now that it was acceptable to retire, Maria made to cross the foyer and bid a formal goodnight to the party's hosts - as was expected at an event such as this - but suddenly she caught the back end of a conversation she later wished she'd never overheard.

"He's certainly kept his physique in peak condition since his time in the navy," a middle aged woman draped from head to toe in pearls with a coif of brown hair muttered to her friend conspiratorially near the staircase.

"Yes... " her companion - a shorter blonde woman with a pinched face - smirked, scrutinising the captain while he shook the hands of several congratulatory men not too far away, "You could well say he hasn't changed much at all since his navy days - particularly when it comes to matters concerning the _physical_." She raised her eyebrows disdainfully.

The brunette's resulting gasp was barely audible but surprisingly effective, and Maria found herself rooted to the spot despite the fact that eavesdropping was most definitely a sin.

"Surely you don't mean to say-"

"But of course Amelia!" The blonde clarified smugly, "what else could I possibly mean!"

"But I thought Agathe had reformed him..."

Her friend scoffed incredulously with a flippant wave of her hand, "Once a rake, always a rake."

"So you mean to say that he and Elsa have..?"

"Oh _nooo_ ," the blonde laughed harshly, "no that would be far too _orthodox..._ after all they've both been married before. No, the latest I hear is that he satisfies himself with _help_ of a very different kind..."

She stressed the word _help_ so blatantly that her meaning was painfully clear, even to an innocent like Maria. Shocked and hurt, she made to take flight to the nursery - her safety net, her sanctuary - but she was intercepted almost immediately by an excitable heir Detweiler.

"Young lady, I simply _must_ have a word with you!" He took her gently by the elbow and, much to her dismay, steered her right into the path of the captain before she could so much as utter a single protest.

"Georg.. _Georg_!" The impresario interrupted impatiently while the captain was being congratulated by another one of his guests, "You're not going to let this girl get away. She _has_ to join the party!"

Mortified, Maria felt her cheeks beginning to colour, " oh no, really, I—" she protested. The last thing on earth she wanted to do was spend the rest of the evening in his presence - not after the disarming things she'd come to feel in his arms on the terrace, not under the scrutiny of his peers, and certainly not after the awful things she'd just overheard. She couldn't trust herself to survive the evening when her nerves were in such tatters. She needed to _escape._ But Heir Detweiler was having none of it, shushing her with a raise of his hand.

"Georg, please."

Maria could do nothing then but pray that her employer would decline, that he would somehow sense her discomfort - the way he always seemed to sense exactly how she was feeling simply by looking at her - and that he would spare her the daunting prospect of having to navigate the aristocratic battlefield on her own. She begged him silently to have mercy, to allow her to retire to the comfort of her bedroom where she wouldn't have to confront the whispered rumours or the scornful scrutiny of his contemporaries. Where she wouldn't have to face _him._

But he barely even looked at her, instead throwing a flippant reply over his shoulder, "You can if you want to, Fräulein," before turning back to a couple that Maria would later come to know as the Eberfelds. Her heart sank.

"I insist!" Heir Detweiler pressed gleefully, "you will be my dinner partner! Franz, set a seat next to mine for Fraulein Maria!"

The disdain with which the butler scrutinised her only added to her growing sense of apprehension. It lasted only a moment but it was enough to awaken further insecurity.

"Whatever you say, Heir Detweiler," Franz smirked coolly.

"Well it appears to be all arranged doesn't it!" The captain commented, as though her attendance and her own feelings on the subject were of very little consequence.

"I'm not suitably dressed.." she implored, her final attempt to avoid the obligation - but it seemed he was determined to ignore her veiled plea all the same.

"Well you can change, we'll wait for you."

 _Change?_ Surely he knew that a postulant would have nothing suitable to wear. Surely he knew that this entire ordeal was making her extremely uncomfortable. He was her employer, she reminded herself, and therefore he ought not to treat her with anything other than polite detachment. But his flippancy stung, his indifference hurt. It was as though she had imagined everything that had ever come to pass between them, every poignant conversation, every teasing remark, every intense exchange. He was a stranger in a waistcoat once again. And it would not be until her honeymoon that Maria's remorseful husband would explain what his callous behaviour had _really_ represented that night: a desperate and stubborn attempt to restore decorum, a panicked endeavour to reconstruct the walls of formality that had crumbled between them.

And so, as the captain had rightfully pointed out, it appeared to be all arranged, Maria's protests going completely unheeded. Fresh out of excuses, she could do little else than allow Heir Detweiler to shoo her up the stairs with an insistent command to hurry herself back in time for the appetisers.

* * *

Elsa Shraeder was not a particularly complex woman, despite her aristocratic background and privileged upbringing. She was intelligent yes, witty yes, graceful yes, the perfect hostess, of course! - but that did not make her immune to the green eyed monster. It did not mean that she was above the mastery of manipulation. She'd kept quiet up until now, watching from afar as Georg slipped through her perfectly manicured clutches like quicksand. And while she'd told herself to do nothing, to simply sit back and allow the bizarre... _change_ in Georg to naturally run its course and then correct itself, she'd decided the minute she'd walked out onto the terrace earlier that evening, that something needed to be done.

 _The way they'd been looking at each other!_ It had been enough to make her stomach drop into her heels. The heat, the longing - it was all so painfully obvious to everyone but the two of them - or so it appeared. The poor girl would be oblivious, of course - or at the very least she would be scared and confused by what she was feeling. She'd practically said as much in the way she'd slipped from his arms in distress before the dance had come to its natural end. But Georg, he was harder to analyse - perhaps he knew _exactly_ what was happening between them but was just too much of a gentleman to admit it, even to himself. All Elsa knew was that they'd both looked utterly enraptured.

And it appeared that no amount of _sitting back and doing nothing_ was going to restore the man she'd grown to love in Vienna - the man who soaked himself in champagne and waltzed about to strausses he couldn't even remember. She found she could barely recall that same man now that she'd spent so many weeks in his home - his natural habitat, as he'd referred to it. She'd once told him that he was far less of a riddle here in Aigen, but as time had gone by it had become startlingly apparent that such an observation simply wasn't true. He was changing before her very eyes into someone she hardly knew, here with his children.. here with _her._ And it hurt deeply.

No, Elsa Shraeder knew now that an intervention was absolutely necessary. Beneath her, yes, even cruel perhaps - but a necessity nonetheless. And it was with that mantra repeating itself in her head that she decided to slip away from the festivities and climb the stairs towards the governess' bedroom.

* * *

"Just what exactly are you up to now Max?" Georg asked, entirely unamused. It was one thing for the impresario to pester him persistently about the festival, but to manipulate Fraulein Maria into being his dinner partner purely for financial gain was a little _too_ distasteful for Georg's liking. At least the impresario had the good grace to look thoroughly affronted, splaying his hand across his chest with mock incredulity.

"Whatever do you mean, Georg!"

His feigned ignorance lasted only a moment before Georg's raised eyebrow caused a knowing grin to spread across the impresario's face, much like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Oh," he chuckled, "you mean my inviting our little _Cinderella_ to attend the ball. It's business Georg, merely business."

"I thought I made it perfectly clear my children will not be singing in the festival, if that's what you're referring to."

"My business ventures concerning the fraulein go far beyond just the festival Georg!" Max implored, taking a triumphant sip of champagne and smiling charmingly at a couple of passing ladies who were making their way to the dance floor, "She could be world famous with that enchanting voice! So could the children, as a matter of fact."

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to _listen_?" Georg retorted impatiently, if a little amused.

The impresario gave a derisive snort, "The only thing my dear departed mother ever taught _me_ was how to enjoy a good party!" He chirped, raising his champagne glass again and taking a hearty swig, smacking his lips appreciatively, "and I'm eternally grateful to her for it!"

"Hmm," Georg bristled, "unless the jokes improve Max I'll be taking back my invitation."

"You didn't invite me to your party!" The impresario scoffed, "I invited myself!"

"Naturally.."

"And I'll have those children in the festival before the night is over!" The lodger beamed, rocking back triumphantly on his heels.

Georg rolled his eyes, having neither the strength nor the patience to argue the matter further at the present moment. He had far more important things on his mind...despite the fact that he was trying very hard to suppress them.

"You really are nothing if not persistent, Max."

"Why thank you!" the impresario laughed, while nodding in greeting to an acquaintance from across the room, "it's won me many a generous opportunity throughout my career, I can assure you!"

"Like the opportunity to pester my governess over entrees, you mean?" Georg accused mirthfully.

"Oh come now Georg, you make me sound like some kind of household pest!" Max protested, oblivious to the fact that his host was smirking in the affirmative, "I merely want to explore a new avenue of opportunity!"

"Still," Georg chastised, "you really shouldn't have insisted that she join us like that."

Max sighed regretfully.

"Yes, I suppose I _do_ see your point. And I'm rather inclined to believe that our dear Elsa would agree with you on the subject."

Georg froze, though he somehow managed to keep his face passive.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Well you know me, I'm not one to _gossip_ ," Max announced conspiratorially, clearly enjoying the rarity of having the upper hand in a battle of wits, "but if I know Elsa, she won't be best pleased with the little Fraulein's attendance."

"Why," Georg scoffed with a roll of his eyes, "because she's the help?"

" _Oh no,_ my friend!" Max chuckled devilishly, his eyes sparkling, "because she's the _competition_!"

Georg immediately began choking on the mouthful of champagne he'd just taken and Max, entirely unfazed by his friend's violent reaction, proceeded to thump him on the back, fixing a group of nearby ladies with an unperturbed smile.

"Bubbles went down the wrong way!" He explained loudly to the alarmed gaggle of elderly women, and Georg could do nothing but offer them an apologetic smile while he coughed and spluttered ungraciously.

"My _my_ Georg..." the impresario chuckled wickedly under his breath, waving politely to a passing Count, "you really ought to slow down on the fizz old man."

" _Now just see here Max_!-" Georg rasped, attempting to regain his composure. But the impresario interrupted him before he had a chance.

"Oh look!" Max exclaimed, distractedly, "There's Sacha Petrie, the little _weasel!"_ he gestured in the direction of a balding man who'd just entered the ballroom, "I've a bone to pick with him as you well know.. that marvellous string quartet! I simply _cannot_ abide thieves you know, Georg! Now if you'll excuse me.."

And with that he made a hasty retreat, leaving Georg to stare after him with his mouth agape and his pulse racing. Had he really been that obvious? He wondered. So blatant, that even the notoriously self absorbed Max Detweiler had picked up on his behaviour? He'd made a series of fatal errors throughout the evening, the first of which had been to follow the fraulein into the library and the latest of which was to stubbornly refuse to come to her rescue when she'd been thrust headfirst into a dinner obligation. He'd been attempting to restore formality after the intensity of what had come to pass on the terrace, but had instead conveyed indifference, he knew. And if the dance had rattled _him_ , a commended naval captain and a man of experience, he could only imagine how she would be feeling - apprehensive, confused, entirely out of her depth - all because of his unforgivable behaviour.

It was an unsettling thought, but one that he didn't have much time to dwell upon - for at that precise moment he spotted Elsa slipping inconspicuously into the room, looking absurdly pleased with herself.

 _Elsa._ The woman he was planning to marry. She'd been his saviour, his light at the end of a very dark tunnel, and he was suddenly confronted with a wave of guilt for his neglect as of late. She was everything a baron could want in a wife, and of course a proposal was entirely expected of him. It made sense. _It was a matter of logic._

His brow marred with a slight frown, he made a final decision to bring the entire matter to a close once and for all. He would go and say goodnight to the children and on his return, he would let the Fraulein know that she was excused from dinner, apologising for his behaviour in the process. From then on in, he would maintain a polite detachment, as was appropriate for a baron and his governess - and would shower Elsa with the attention she deserved. It was the right thing to do, he decided - and if he was entirely honest with himself, there was a part of him that just wanted to ensure Maria was alright.

With determination, he made his way to the foyer, heading straight for the stairs with every intention of taking them two at a time. But something unusual caught his eye on the nearby cabinet, resting against a vase of flowers the fraulein had picked a few days ago with the girls. Stopping in his tracks, he moved closer, a frown etching his brow.

It looked very much like a _letter..._

* * *

 **A/N: loved it? Hated it? As always, your reviews mean a lot!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: rather a longer chapter, I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

 _It looked very much like a letter…_

The envelope was marked with a familiar scrawl and Georg's pulse began to race at the sight of the words he found etched there.

 _The family von Trapp_

He knew that handwriting. He had seen it multiple times on the occasions that he would join the children in their lessons, the gentle flick and feminine swirl of the letters commending or correcting their morning's work. He had seen it in the weekly reports their governess had given him on their educational progress, when they'd meet in the study for a formal update only to find themselves discussing far more than just the children. He had caught a glimpse of it in her scrapbooks and journals, oftentimes when he would discover her sitting under a tree by the lake with a moment to herself, privately scribbling away with so much enthusiasm that he often ached to read whatever it was she couldn't quite keep locked inside.

Yes. _He knew that handwriting all too well._

A sudden wave of panic kickstarted him into action and he tore the envelope open with force, his eyes scanning the contents faster than he could make sense of the words. His stomach churned. She'd addressed it to each of them - _Dear Captain, Leisl, Friedrich, Louisa, Kurt, Brigitta, Marta and Gretl_ \- every name looking as though it'd been etched with great care.

 _It breaks my heart to leave you so abruptly but I feel I absolutely must. I believe my errand through God was to bring you closer together as a family but I've come to realise that you've already achieved this yourselves through hope and sheer force of will - and for that I am so overjoyed. I know now the time has come for me to return to the abbey. I miss my life there desperately and I hope you can forgive me._

 _Captain, I want to thank you eternally for your kindness, your patience, and for welcoming me into your home._

 _I will treasure the memories always._

 _All my love,_ _  
_ _Maria_

He stared at the page blankly, his heart galloping on an off beat. The last few words rattled around in his head like loose stones, jumping off the paper as though she had written them for him and him alone.

 _I will treasure the memories always..._

 _All my love..._ _  
_  
She was gone - and the realisation hit him with all the force of one of his own infamous torpedoes. Perhaps after everything that had come to pass between them over the last few months, he ought not to have been shocked by the intensity of his reaction - but as it was, his chest immediately ached for the loss of her and the magnitude, the _significance_ of it, shook him as roughly as a ship caught on raging tides.

He had frightened her. He was sure of it. He had frightened her and then deserted her to confront her confusion alone. And so she had fled.

The decision to act was sudden and overpowering, his military sixth sense jumpstarting into action. If his naval precision with time keeping was anything to be trusted, he'd wager that Maria would've left only minutes - perhaps even _moments_ \- ago, shortly after Elsa's timely reappearance in the ballroom. Yes, he thought bitterly, the potential significance of _that_ little coincidence was not lost on him - but he would have to worry about that later. If he acted now, he might still have a chance to put things right.

Crumpling the letter and stuffing it into his pocket, he bolted across the foyer towards the front door, his pristine shoes echoing urgently against the marble. He needed to find Maria and convince her to return - if only to give him the opportunity to apologise for his behaviour and put an end to whatever absurdity he'd allowed to cloud his judgment. The children needed her, and if that meant he had to bring her back to the villa and then double his efforts to keep an appropriate distance between them in order to ensure her own comfort, then so be it.

It would be difficult, he knew - attempting to feign indifference whenever she was near, treating her with nothing but the cold aloofness of a distant employer, resisting the temptation to seek her out whenever he'd gone a little too long without hearing her voice. But if she was afraid of him, fearful enough of their... c _ompanionship_ to run away from him, then he would have to do everything in his power to restore a formal affiliation. For the children's sake. For _her_ sake.

And then, as was expected of him, not only by society but by his own better judgment - he would propose to Elsa. Only then would things be as they should be.

Reaching the front door and wrenching it open, caring very little as to whether he would be missed during the appetisers, he hastened out and into the night, the gravel crunching decisively beneath his feet. Lit only by the lively glow from the villa behind him, the driveway was almost completely dark - and littered with expensive cars belonging to various members of the aristocracy. But it didn't take him long to spot her, a dainty silhouette by the gates at the far end, clutching a carpet bag and guitar case as though they were the only things she had in the world.

The sudden relief was overwhelming and he had to stop short for a moment in an attempt to fill his lungs with air.

Maria fumbled unsuccessfully with the wrought iron handle of the front gates, her hand shaking far too violently to grip the metal with any real force. She needed to get as far away from the villa as possible, away from feelings she could hardly comprehend. The baroness had been right, she _had_ blushed in the captain's arms when they'd been dancing - she blushed almost every time he so much as looked at her. The familiar heat would unfurl in her stomach, her heartbeat would gallop in her chest, and the admiration she would often feel in his company would be undeniable. She'd more or less come to terms with these bizarre feelings, burying them deep within and occupying her mind elsewhere, never dwelling too much on what they might mean. But to acknowledge that all of these sentiments were signs of _love_ scared her out of her wits.

And perhaps the worst part of all was the alarming realisation that the captain surely _knew_ of her feelings. The baroness had told her as much.

 _There is nothing more irresistible to a man than a woman who's in love with him..._

She'd always known her eyes were far too expressive for her own good, that they would often deceive her before she herself was even aware of her true feelings. And the possibility that the captain and the baroness had already noticed her fascination, even before she had noticed it herself, was utterly humiliating. She could almost picture them now, sharing a good laugh over the silly convent girl and her petty infatuation.

Maybe _that_ was why his guests were implying such outrageous things about the two of them. Perhaps she had unknowingly brought it upon herself... by allowing him to see how she felt, had she unintentionally led him to believe that she was willing to become his.. his.. ?

The notion was too painful to even think about. And besides, none of it mattered anymore. She was returning to the abbey, where she would seek council from the mother abbess and overcome whatever it was that-

"What in God's name are you doing..."

Her guitar case hit the gravel with a deafening thud as the baritone voice, so painfully familiar to her now, pierced the quietude of the night from somewhere behind her. He'd spoken the words softly, tenderly even - but she still couldn't mask the involuntary sob that escaped her throat, nor could she stop the quaking hand that flew to her heart.

Time stood still then, and the silence stretched on unbearably as she stared into the blackness of her escape route on the other side of the gates, the only sound the raggedness of his breathing and the blood roaring in her ears. She couldn't find the courage to turn around, even if she'd wanted to - and so she remained rooted to the spot, praying to the high heavens that she had somehow imagined the stirring timbre of that voice.

But it was no use. Her imagination would never have been able to conjure up the compassion she'd heard in his tone, nor the thundering behind her rib cage in response to it. It was not a figment of her subconscious but the real life flesh and blood man who stood only a few feet away from her, she knew - and he was patiently awaiting an explanation.

"Come back inside," he murmured gently, as though coaxing a startled lamb, "where we can talk, perhaps."

"I cannot do that.. _sir."_

He _couldn't_ be here – this couldn't be happening…

"At least turn around then.."

Still she did not move, and the seconds of impenetrable silence stretched on as he observed her, rigid and vulnerable before him.

"You are excused from dinner," he tried again stupidly, as though she were still thinking of attending, "Max should never have obligated you to-"

But he stopped short when suddenly she whirled around to face him, her features contorted with an anguish he hadn't anticipated.

"Why do your peers think that we're.. that I'm... Why are they saying such terrible things about us?!" She blurted, the question coming out shriller than she'd intended.

The abrupt change in topic startled him, the pain in her eyes jarring him, and his mouth opened and closed several times before he found his words.

"What _on earth_ gave you such an idea?"

She said nothing then, and he tried desperately to form eye contact with her in the hopes that he might find some answers in the blue depths. Her eyes were the windows to her soul after all - it was impossible for her to keep anything from him whenever he looked into them. But it appeared she was well aware of that fact, for she kept her gaze safely fixed to the knot of his bow tie.

"If this is anything to do with the Lieutenant," he pressed, his voice laced with anger, "you _must_ know that Dieter Waltz is a scoundrel and a liar who has nothing better to do than breed falsehoods about-"

"But he's not the only one to make such awful assumptions.." she interrupted fretfully, wringing her hands in front of her skirts.

He swallowed hard, unable to find any words to refute her observation. Perhaps he'd made yet another fatal error in assuming that the growing attraction between them had been completely imperceptible to others. Yet another thing he'd failed to protect her from, he considered bitterly. He'd made such an awful mess of things.

His silence seemed to give her newfound courage and she took a deep breath, before forging bravely on, "What impression have you given to your peers about me, Captain, that they think I'm.. that I'm willing to- that I'm your..."

Outraged, he took an involuntary step closer to her.

"I've said absolutely nothing!" He implored, a pained frown crossing his features, "And I never would! Not about any woman but _certainly_ not about you! Frankly I'm hurt that you could ever think such a thing!"

Her eyes shone with unshed tears, though she still wouldn't look at him.

"Then _why_ are they spreading such awful rumours about us?"

He'd begun pacing now, agitated steps back and forth across the gravel, his hands anchored to his hips, "I can assure you Fraulein, I don't know what you're talking about-"

" _Please_ don't treat me like a child captain!" She begged, watching him pace like a caged animal, "Tell me why! Why do they say that we.. that we're... I haven't done _a thing_ to-"

"Of course you haven't!" He beseeched, coming to an immediate halt and resisting the urge to grasp her closer to him by the upper arms, "None of this is your fault!"

"Then why are they saying it?"

She'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't look at him lest she gave herself away, but she was so desperate for answers that her eyes locked with his entirely of their own accord. Almost immediately, her breath hitched in her throat. From the confident and eloquent ease with which he always conducted himself, she'd assumed that he would appear as distinguished and composed as always. But upon looking at him, she saw that the exact opposite held true: his eyes were burning ferociously, his entire body was rigid with tension, and his fists were balled like rocks at his sides - as though he was fighting the compulsion to do something he ought not to. His gaze shifted agonisingly over her face, and she could tell he was engaged in some kind of internal battle with himself, desperately trying to strategise his next move.

"Cap-?"

"It's because of the way we _look at each other_!" He cried, conceding defeat at long last.

The resulting silence was deafening as he watched her eyes widen, felt her sharp intake of breath as though it was his own, followed the fierce blush that crept into her cheeks - and the blood pounded in his veins at the sudden and dangerous shift in the air.

Their eyes burned into one another's with such an intensity that he felt suspended in time and space. It was not his confession alone that robbed him of his ability to think, but the look she was sharing with him - an agonised expression of longing and heartache that was so transparent, so beautifully earnest, that it lay bare the secrets of her heart for him to see.

"I.. we don't.. look at each other-" she whispered unconvincingly, her mortification evident.

"Oh ho, _yes_ we do," he gave a bitter laugh, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "far too intimately for our own good!"

"I.. I-"

"It started out innocently enough at first," he continued, unable to stem the flow of words now he'd started, "The curious glances, the inside jokes, the shared smiles-"

"It's not-"

"But soon enough - I'm not sure when precisely - it became more than that," he insisted, his eyes boring into her, "We were- we _are_ \- playing with fire!"

"We're doing no such thing!" She protested, her hands clutching at her stomach.

"Then _why_ are you running away from me?"

She startled at the question, looking every bit the dear caught in the headlights, "It's.. I'm not!"

"You most certainly are, Maria."

Her name rolled off his tongue like honey - so effortless, so natural, and he revelled in her astonishment. The intimacy of the address had clearly shocked her, but if it were up to him, he'd never call her fraulein again.

"I..I miss the abbey!" She defended weakly, her voice sounding so unlike her own.

"You don't belong in that damned abbey any more than I do," he said, no longer caring that the lines of formality between them were blurred beyond recognition, "I know this because I can see it in your eyes. And I can see it in your eyes because of the way we _look at each other_!"

Almost immediately, her eyes flew shut in self defence, "Stop! Just stop it!"

"You didn't like the way Lieutenant Waltz looked at you, did you?" He murmured huskily, his feet moving of their own accord as they brought him another step closer to her, "I didn't like it either. I _loathed_ it! So much so, that I wanted to throttle him for so much as daring to glance in your direction."

She opened her mouth as if to protest again but he cut her off, taking another dangerously slow step towards her, the gravel crunching underfoot.

"So why is it then that when _we_ look at each other in that very same way, I feel not shame, but elation?"

"I.. _I don't know what you're talking about_ ," she choked, her eyes darting to the ground, the sky, the cross at his neck - anywhere but at him.

"Look at me now," he rasped, "and tell me you feel nothing."

She could only shake her head at him mutely, and with a last step he finally reached her, closing the gap between them and placing his hands against the gate either side of her shoulders, encasing her in his arms while being careful not to lay a finger on her.

His heart pounded as he heard her gasp of surprise, could feel the warmth of her heavy pants against his face, could see her mouth as it parted on a whimper and her eyes as they fluttered closed - and it took all his willpower not to claim her open lips with his own.

"Darling.." he whispered, his voice hoarse with longing, "look at me."

Despite her best efforts, Maria's mutinous eyes flew open and what she saw stilled her pounding heart. An intense heat threatened to buckle her knees, coursing through her body as she finally dared to look upon his face. His eyes were burning with a fierce adoration to match her own, but they were laced with such anguish, such turmoil, that she was confronted with a sudden and desperate longing to ease his suffering. Instinctively, and without a single coherent thought, she reached for him, her hands pressing to the silk of his waistcoat and sliding ever so slowly up his chest.

She felt rather than heard his sharp intake of breath, could feel the hammering of his heartbeat under her fingertips, could see the battle playing out across his face - and before she could catch her breath, before she could fight for the oxygen she so desperately needed, before she could determine up from down, he was wrapping his strong arms around her and capturing her lips with his own in a fierce rush of heat and longing.

She could barely contain her sob of relief, as lips and tongues crashed together and her insides turned to liquid fire. Their hands gripped at one another's bodies desperately, clinging to each other against the wrought iron gates behind them. Her mind reeled with a myriad of emotions, the sensation raging across her body faster than she could absorb it. But she was loathe to stop, she would surely burst into flames if she _ever_ stopped.

Still kissing her feverishly, he wrenched the white gloves from his hands, throwing them to the ground with an impatient growl against her lips before burying his fingers in her hair. She'd always wondered, in her most sinful moments, what his strong hands would feel like upon her body - and now that his fingers were free to explore, it seemed they couldn't get at her fast enough - caressing her jaw, her cheek, her neck, her waist, drawing dangerously close to her breasts - until she felt almost limp in his arms. There was something so wickedly thrilling about the fact that _she_ \- an innocent, a novice - apparently had the power to strip such a stoic and self-assured man of his composure - and this free and untamed side of him was nothing short of intoxicating.

She broke reluctantly for air, only to pant raggedly when he began peppering her face and neck with frantic kisses, murmuring incoherent whispers against her skin. Every excruciating inch of his powerful body, all skin and muscle and man, was pressed against her, possessing her in a way that left her feeling utterly fulfilled and yet somehow longing for more. Her mind screamed for her to put an end to their madness, to push him away - but her _heart.. Oh her heart._

Georg was the worst kind of scoundrel, he knew. No sooner had he promised himself to keep his distance was he pressing his governess up against the gates, kissing her with a hunger he hadn't felt in years. He deserved to be keelhauled, first for his mistreatment of her and second for his deplorable lack of any self control. How she must've _suffered_ because of him, how he wanted to beg for her forgiveness - but she tasted too good, her broken sighs were too delectable, her body far too responsive to his own, and the dangerous surge of arousal coursing through him made it impossible for him to think. He would give her room to breathe soon, room to contemplate whatever the _hell_ it was that was happening between them - but not yet. He couldn't quite let go of her _just yet_.

But it was perhaps a decision that would cost them a great deal, for they were so wrapped up in each other, so utterly captivated by one another, that neither one of them heard the forewarning sound of footsteps crunching closer on the gravel…

* * *

 **A/N: so sorry for the cliffhanger but this chapter was long enough already! at least they finally got to have a smooch ey x**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your amazing reviews, it's so lovely to hear your thoughts! I hope you like this next chapter.**

* * *

Maria had never experienced such electricity burning through her veins. Perhaps, as an innocent, she ought to have been absolutely terrified by what was happening between herself and her employer up against the gates to his home - but as it was, she felt as alive as though she was dancing on her mountain. The captain's mouth moved frantically over hers and the sheer force of it made her head spin, not from fear but from a previously undiscovered need that she could feel all the way down to her toes. He was like a man possessed and the effect she was evidently having on him made her feel dangerous and wild and unstoppable, her mind blowing by all the warnings without a moment's hesitation.

His strong yet gentle hands were hot steel where he gripped her, his hips were a solid anchor where he pinned her, his tongue was liquid fire in her mouth where he kissed her - and she was moaning, begging, writhing against him desperately - for what, she wasn't sure, but she'd be damned if he ever stopped.

Almost as though he'd somehow read her mind and wanted simply to torment her, his entire body suddenly went rigid a few moments later and he abruptly broke their heated kiss. Perplexed by the sudden loss of contact, her chest heaved as she tried to make sense of why he'd pulled away - but she was immediately knocked off her feet when she saw the state of her Captain. Gone was the starched aristocrat, replaced instead by a red-blooded male whose pupils were blown wide, whose hair had escaped onto his forehead, whose waistcoat was creased with the imprint of her body...

"Wha-?" She moaned, dazed.

 _"Shh!"_ He interrupted against her lips, the heat of his breath making her dizzy and the length of his body still pressed intimately against hers. She was much too flustered to disobey him and so she waited patiently, utterly bewildered. But still he didn't move, frozen like a statue - almost as though he were trying to keep her still? And that's when she heard it: the telltale crunch of gravel through the semi-darkness as someone made their way closer. Something very much akin to panic bloomed in her stomach - but before she could so much as form a coherent thought, he had grabbed her by the hand and pulled her, quick as a dart, behind the nearest automobile cloaked in the evening's shadow.

There they hid, hearts hammering, breathing ragged, no better than two teenagers caught out after curfew - and it was then that the enormity of what they'd done began to sink in for Maria. She was supposed to be devoting her life to God, and _he_ \- he was hosting a party in honour of the woman he was likely going to marry! And yet they'd spent the last few minutes wrapped in a passionate embrace with no regard for the consequences. _Was there any greater sin than betrayal?_ She wondered. If they had been _caught..._

But as luck would have it, it appeared their intruder hadn't spotted them - though the footsteps were only moving closer, until the perpetrator's face shifted into the light of the villa's glow and Maria caught a glimpse from her place of hiding.

It was lieutenant Waltz. And within a few more strides he would surely discover them. Her stomach curled with panic as her eyes darted to the captain in desperation. He too was wrought with anxiety, looking around desperately in search of another escape route, when suddenly-

"Dieter?" It was the baroness' voice ringing out from the villa's doorway and the sound of the footsteps on the gravel stopped abruptly as Waltz turned to face her, "what on earth are you doing out here?"

"Ah Elsa, my dear," Dieter chuckled, "I came to get those cuban cigars from my car that Max simply _insists_ on trying. Why he can't wait until after the entrees is beyond me, but then again he always _has_ been a rather impatient - though charming - sponge!"

There was a moment's pause while Elsa, her footsteps much daintier than her companion's, made her way over to meet him on the gravel and Georg watched in horror, his breath held in dreaded anticipation.

"There's plenty of time for Cuban cigars _later_ darling," she purred, handing him a cigarette and helping him light it, "now.. " she added in a conspiratorial voice, "tell me, what did you find out?"

Dieter leaned casually against the bonnet of the nearest car, his legs stretched out in front of him and a small smirk tugging at his face, "what exactly was it you wanted to know, _baroness_?"

"Is it just as I suspected?" Elsa replied impatiently, "is he-"

"Oh far _worse_ ," Dieter grinned gleefully, taking evident enjoyment in the drama he was creating as Elsa blanched in surprise.

"You mean to say he's-?"

"utterly infatuated? I'm afraid so!" Dieter confirmed with relish, "In fact, he looked as though he wanted to put my head through a wall when he discovered me dancing with her!"

"I knew it..." Elsa murmured, as though to herself, "I just knew it.."

"I never would've thought her his _type_... " Dieter continued brazenly, "the young and virginal were always _my_ cup of tea back in our navy days - but the tension between them really is deliciously _thick,_ isn't it!"

"You don't have to sound so thoroughly thrilled about it!" Elsa snapped, lighting her own cigarette angrily, "I asked for your _help_ Dieter, not your ridicule."

"Elsa, darling!" Dieter laughed, taking a long drag of smoke while the baroness fumed, "don't shoot the messenger! I did as you asked - I danced with the girl, I did some digging... I can't help it if my conclusions confirm your worst fears."

"And the girl..?" Elsa pressed, "when you spoke to her... did she have any idea?"

"I doubt it," Waltz scoffed with a shrug, stubbing his cigarette out on the bonnet of the car, "she's an innocent - and I've had plenty of experience with young woman of _that_ particular nature," he grinned arrogantly, "she has no clue what his gazes mean, nor what her own feelings are on the subject. He'll either have his way with her or she'll leave before he gets the chance."

"Then it shall be the latter," Elsa concluded firmly, "if she didn't know before, she certainly knows now."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I uh.. went and had a little word with her about the propriety of their behaviour," Elsa patted her coif of hair sourly, "She was packing her bags when I left..."

Dieter's eyes widened momentarily before he boomed with incredulous laughter, "my God Elsa!" He wiped a mirthful tear from his eye, guffawing all the while, "or should I say _Baroness Machiavelli!_ Georg will surely never forgive you!"

"Georg need never find out," Elsa bristled, stubbing her own cigarette out with finality, "I trust you will keep your silence?"

"Elsa, if there's one thing you know about me after our many years of acquaintance, it's that I can most _definitely_ keep a secret..." Dieter raised an eyebrow suggestively, a lewd smile tugging at his lips.

"If you are eluding to what I _think_ you're eluding to.. you know full well that was a very very _very_ long time ago.." Elsa retorted dismissively, "before I'd even _met_ Georg..."

"Well if you ever care to relive that particular night of ours in another moment of weakness.. you know where to find me," he replied, waggling his eyebrows so suggestively that she couldn't help but laugh.

"You'll never change, will you Dieter!" she smiled warmly, linking her arm through his as they began meandering back towards the house, "speaking of Georg," she added suddenly, "where on earth is he?"

"Most likely hiding away in the study for one last moment of respite before dinner starts," Dieter rolled his eyes, "he always did hate these soirees."

Their voices gradually ebbed away as they moved out of sight - cigars evidently forgotten - leaving Maria and Georg to confront the painfully awkward silence left in the wake of their shocking revelations. It was no surprise to Georg that Elsa was well acquainted with Dieter - her late husband had also been a seafaring man and the two aristocrats had run very much in the same circles before the late baron Shraeder's death. What Georg _hadn't_ been aware of however, was the fact that Elsa had once been intimate with the lieutenant.

Upon overhearing the news, he'd waited for the inevitable envy, the jealousy to take hold of him.. but no such reaction had occurred. There was no bubbling hatred, no seething restlessness - none of the emotions that had confronted him when, as the lieutenant had rightly pointed out, he'd seen Dieter dancing with his governess. Instead, there was only a silent fury upon the discovery that it was _Elsa_ who'd attempted to drive Maria from the villa. Fury, and a shameful embarrassment at having his feelings so openly analysed within earshot of Maria before he'd had a chance to digest them himself.

And now they had to confront what they'd done, what they'd overheard. His mind was a whirlwind of emotion, desperately trying to make sense of everything that had come to pass in the last thirty minutes, but trying to strategise his next move was neon impossible. The last time he'd settled upon a plan in his head it'd been shot to hell the minute he'd seen Maria, the beautiful curvature of her face illuminated by the ethereal glow of the moonlight. He'd known then that he simply had to have her in his arms. No, he thought bitterly, strategy would get him nowhere with matters of the heart.

Dieter's prediction that 'the girl' would be used and cast aside was painful to hear, and yet had he not just spent the entire evening doing exactly that? Taking advantage of her and then dismissing her without a moment's hesitation? He was the worst kind of reprobate. There was so much he needed to think about, so much left unsaid between them - the air itself was thick with unspoken truths - but all he could manage was-

"I'm truly sorry," he whispered bitterly, unable to meet her eyes, "I've been such a fool."

"No more so than I, captain..." she smiled woefully, the tension palpable between them again.

"Perhaps we ought to uh- go back inside," he said grimly after a few moments, "and wait for the guests to leave before... " _before what?!_ He chastised himself, _before you ravish your governess fully and then cast her out like the common rake that you are?!_ But instead he said awkwardly; "I'll be missed at dinner, you see.."

She nodded gravely, swallowing hard against the lump forming in her throat and looking down at her shoes. A few more moments of uncomfortable silence filled the air again, the only sound the cooing of a distant owl, until-

"You won't run away again, will you?" He murmured suddenly, his eyes meeting hers through the semi-darkness -and she could see such anxiety, such trepidation in his gaze as he awaited an answer, that an involuntary shiver ran down her spine.

"You're cold," he misconstrued regretfully, removing his tailcoat to drape around her shoulders. But it turned out to be a grave mistake, for he couldn't ignore the way her eyes suddenly roamed over his torso as he removed his jacket, nor could he disregard the sharp intake of breath that left her throat when his fingertips grazed featherlight against the silken skin of her shoulders. He could do nothing but watch in mute fascination as her eyelids fluttered closed again, her spine arching into the warmth of his unexpected proximity - and the smouldering embers left behind by their previous embrace suddenly ignited into full flame once again.

Almost immediately, the night air began to pulsate with the low hum of expectant desire. She smelled _phenomenal_ , like the scent of roses carried on a summer breeze, and her skin looked so milky soft to the touch that there was simply no use in fighting it. Heart hammering against his ribcage and hands still resting atop her shoulders where he'd placed the coat, he bent his head ever so slowly - as though in a trance - until his lips grazed against the satin shell of her ear. The sound that came from her - somewhere between a gasp and a moan - aroused him more fiercely than he ever could've anticipated and, despite his own better judgement, he found himself taking her lobe between his teeth with a low groan of his own making.

He wasn't sure who moved first, but within a fraction of a second she had turned in his arms and their mouths were clashing again in another searing kiss to rival the last, his coat falling forgotten to the floor. It was complete and utter _lunacy_ \- here they were in full view of the house, having nearly been discovered, having just had the reality of their situation so brutally laid out before them - and yet he was anchoring her against the nearest car with the length of his body, biting her lower lip between his teeth. It was as though a dam had burst and spilled forth unchartered waters, like a storm that had built for weeks only to finally be unleashed. And the sweet relief, the heat, the unrestrained desire - it was almost too intense to bare, even for a man of such worldly experience.

"What.. are... we _doing.._ ?!" he rasped between frantic kisses but he received only a whimper by way of reply, as she returned his embrace with equal - if not slightly clumsier - enthusiasm. She was lost to her body's desires, overwhelmed by a myriad of new feelings, he knew - and it was with equal parts elation and panic that he realised she wasn't going to do anything to stop him. Even now, her nimble fingers were stroking at the nape of his neck, her tongue was curling like hot silk in his mouth, and every inch of her supple body was pressed against his own with such torturous friction that he was positively _aching_ for her.

 _You're surely going straight to hell!_ His conscience screamed - _you are every bit as vile as the lieutenant described! A scoundrel, a rake, a philanderer, a fiend!_ _  
_  
It was true that he'd allowed the lines of formality with his governess to blur over the last few weeks - seeking her out when he ought not to, teasing her mercilessly for the enjoyment of seeing her bashful smile, striving to find out more about the person beneath the wimple - throwing caution to the wind. It was also true that he'd breached the rules of etiquette by getting a little too close to her, only to switch to cold indifference whenever the resulting tension would become too much for him to acknowledge. And it was most _definitely_ true that he'd taken advantage of her affections, pressing her up against an automobile in a manner that was usually reserved for the likes of immoral cads such as Dieter Waltz himself, for God's sake!

But there was one very subtle but paramount distinction between captain Georg von Trapp and lieutenant Dieter Waltz.

Captain Georg von Trapp was _in love._

And the sudden realisation hit him with such force, such abrupt and overwhelming clarity, that it felt like a hammer's blow to the chest.

 _He loved her._ Somewhere along their chaotic whirlwind of a journey, they had fallen for one another. He for his governess, and she for her employer. He, a retired officer of the imperial navy, currently hosting a ball for his intended - and she, a young postulant from Nonnberg Abbey, about to enter the noviciate. It was only the combination of his stubbornness and her naivety that meant they'd been too blind to see it. How could he have been so _foolish?_

But perhaps it was not too late after all. He'd been in denial for far too long - that much was obvious - but with the acknowledgement of his feelings came a newfound resolve - a resolve to put an end to the charade once and for all. It would require due care and sensitivity on his part, particularly where Maria's frayed nerves were concerned. But the only way to move forward was to find out where her heart truly lay. And he would get no answers by simply ravishing her up against a car bonnet.

It took every ounce of willpower he possessed, but with a reluctant growl he managed to break their ever intensifying kiss.

"Maria..." he gasped firmly, but when she did nothing but pull his lips back to hers with an impatient whimper, he had to try again, "darling... _darling_ , please..just _wait_ ," he mumbled against her lips, "just.. we have talk," he grasped her shoulders firmly and held her at arms length, much to her evident dismay, "we have to do some _talking_ now... okay?" He stroked the hair from her face, "We need to go and talk about this."

She nodded her agreement mutely, her dark eyes blown wide and her lips swollen, chest heaving. She looked absolutely beautiful.

"Will you do one thing for me?" He asked, as though talking to a startled child, gliding his fingers down her cheek, "please just.. come back inside. Wait for me in my study.. I'll rid the house of guests as quickly as I can."

She hesitated for only a moment before nodding apprehensively, casting her eyes back to the villa.

"I won't let any harm come to you," he implored, watching her trepidation, "I only need.. no, _we_ only need a few more hours. Just... promise me you won't ever run away from me again."

Her eyes moved to his again, blue meeting blue in unspoken adoration.

"I promise," she whispered.

He gave her a tender little half smile of gratitude before turning to pick up her bags.

"Oh.. and before I forget.." he added darkly, shifting her belongings into one hand so he could rifle through his trouser pocket. Bewildered, Maria watched as he pulled out a set of keys and proceeded to run a particularly sharp one down the entire length of the vehicle they'd just been pressed up against, a hideously high-pitched scratching sound piercing the night.

"What on earth are you doing!" She lamented, her eyes widening.

He fixed her with a triumphant smirk before reaching across the driver's seat and pulling a box of forgotten cigars from the glove compartment, tucking them under his arm.

" _This_ is lieutenant Waltz' car."

* * *

 **A/N: For once I'm not actually sure where the next chapter will go.. so the next update might take a little longer while I figure it out! But as always I'd love to hear if you liked it!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So I had a bit of fun writing this chapter, attempting to bring some fun/action back into it and this is where I ended up! It jumps between a few different perspectives so I hope it doesn't feel rushed.**

* * *

Georg's eyes darted from table to table in restless agony, watching the many guests tucking enthusiastically into their desserts. He'd wolfed his own down at lightning speed in the hopes of bringing the night to a quicker end, but the food had tasted like ash in his mouth and now he was inevitably stuck watching everybody else as they lingered endlessly over their plates. _How long did it take to finish a bloody slice of gateau, for God's sake!_ And then there would be the coffees and the whiskeys and the cigars and the positively _endless_ deliberations about precisely who it was that had the most shocking piece of gossip in the drawing room. Would this night ever _end?_

He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up the charade. Elsa had been watching his every move since he'd returned to the ballroom just in time for the entrees. Quite evidently she hadn't believed him when he'd blamed his previous absence on an unexpected headache, and her expression was growing more and more sour by the minute - though she knew better than to say anything in polite company. He found he cared very little about her iciness however, his concerns instead resting with the fragile young woman currently waiting for him in his study.

If he could only bring the evening to a socially acceptable close and then get Elsa alone for long enough to end things - as swiftly and painlessly as possible. Perhaps he would even confront her about her involvement in Maria's departure - though really it hardly mattered anymore. It didn't take a genius to understand her reasons. Jealousy and heartache could do awful things to people, he had learned about that well enough himself - and despite her scheming, Georg was remorseful about the part he'd unknowingly played in hurting Elsa Shraeder, and for the additional hurt he was inevitably going to cause her before the night was through. It was for that reason, and for Maria's sake alone, that he was even allowing this _pantomime_ of a party to run its natural course.

Indeed, avoiding a scandal was of paramount importance. The weeks to follow would be difficult enough for him and Maria, provided of course that she would accept his hand in marriage. For that was exactly what he hoped for - to marry her, to have her for a wife, and as a mother to his children. He'd known it the minute he'd kissed her.

A lesser man might've taken her as his mistress instead, if she would only permit such a thing - and from the way she'd so naturally melted into his embrace he would wager, astonishingly, that perhaps she _would_ have laid with him willingly if he were only to ask. And while he'd never dreamt of taking a mistress in all his long years of marriage, he knew enough about the society in which he lived to understand just how the arrangement usually worked.

He would spend his days keeping her at a chilly distance in front of the watchful eyes of his children and contemporaries, only to slip into her bed after nightfall. He would teach her all the ways they could take comfort in one another, would worship her body with his own behind closed doors, would muffle her cries of ecstasy with his lips.

Occasionally he would whisk her away to secret and lavish locations - Rome, Paris, London - claiming to those at home that he had a business obligation, all the while spoiling her with fine cuisine and champagne before making love to her in the plush canopy bed of an undisclosed five star suite. For many a woman it would seem a tempting offer for an easy and luxurious life...

Yes, perhaps a lesser man might've made a mistress out of Maria Rainer - and what a fine mistress she would make! With her zest for life and her insatiable enthusiasm for simpler pleasures, she would surely bring a more experienced man than he to his knees. But he knew already that it would be an empty and unsatisfying life for both of them. To have to hide her away, to treat her with cruel indifference in the company of others, to give her less than she wholly deserved - the very thought made him feel sick to the stomach.

There really was no question about it, he knew. If she granted him the honour of her affections by the end of the night, it would be as his future wife and nothing less. To settle for anything else, to have her incompletely, to be given only her body but no promise of her soul to go with it, or even worse - to have none of her at all - it would lead to nothing but his own ruin, and hers, in the end.

* * *

Something akin to a tight knot was forming in Elsa Shraeder's stomach, a clenching that simply wouldn't go away. She wagered begrudgingly that this was what guilt felt like, and she decided rather quickly that she didn't like it one bit. The more she watched Georg over the course of the evening after he'd recovered from his mysterious headache, the more painstakingly clear it became to her that he was _unhappy_. He was present yes, smiling yes, charming _always_ \- but behind his eyes lay a restlessness, a disquietude that she could no longer ignore. No matter how much she tried to put it to the back of her mind, she couldn't deny there was evidently something missing from Georg von Trapp's life.

Perhaps Dieter's teasing remarks actually had some truth in them after all - perhaps Georg really _was_ infatuated, to the point of suffering in separation. He surely had no way of knowing yet that the girl had fled the villa - but even the knowledge that she had foregone dinner was clearly causing him distress. To everyone else he would appear as unaffected as always but Elsa knew better. She could see the way his eyes were darting about the room, could sense his tormented distraction - and if the girl caused him this much anguish then perhaps there really _was_ no hope for any other woman when it came to Georg von Trapp.

Could she really live with herself if she were to win the hand of a man who loved another, she wondered. Would she ever truly be happy with a husband who would look into her eyes and see somebody else? Would she ever feel cherished with a man who would make love to her with another woman's name on his lips?

It was too painful a notion to even think about, and so she turned back to her untouched gateau and pushed her concerns to the back of her mind. Surely she was reading too much into things and Georg would get over the girl soon enough, just as she had predicted. With Fraulein Maria gone, the whole matter could be put to rest at long last and it would become nothing more than a distant, rather unpleasant memory.

* * *

The study almost seemed incomplete without its master sat brooding behind the large mahogany desk. Maria hadn't ever been in this particular room without the captain being there too and now that she'd been left to her own devices for numerous hours while the party ran its course, she couldn't help but marvel at its grandeur.

She stared at the imposing curtains, inspected the immaculate furniture, sat down and stood up again to take a turn about the room repeatedly - she even took the time to study a mysterious glass cabinet on the wall behind the captain's desk that she'd always noticed but never had the opportunity to inspect. It held two menacing swords crossed at the handles on a plush velvet lining, both of the weapons marked with what she assumed was the von Trapp family crest. A symbol of bravery, or dominance perhaps? But even the peculiar blades in their velvet cage couldn't distract her from the turmoil raging in her heart.

She couldn't quite bring herself to believe what had taken place on the driveway, nor what was potentially going to happen once the captain finally came to join her - and her nerves only skyrocketed when she began to hear the sound of various guests taking their leave out in the foyer beyond the door.

At least fifteen minutes passed before the hubbub ebbed away and quietude was restored - and she waited with baited breath, her ear pressed up against the door listening for some kind of indication of what would come next. When nothing more happened, her heart sank, and she moved back to the sofa to resume her seemingly endless waiting - but she'd barely sat down before she heard the door's handle turning. Her heart in her mouth, she looked up to find the captain hurrying into the room and closing the door behind him.

Their eyes locked for agonisingly long seconds, the atmosphere crackling with the low murmur of anticipation - and Maria felt as though she would surely never breathe again...

Georg moved first, charging towards her like an caged animal set free, and mere milliseconds later she flung herself from the sofa, wrapping her arms around his neck as their bodies collided. The way his mouth moved hungrily over hers, it was as though they'd been separated for years rather than a mere few hours and almost instantly, his hands were on her waist, pulling her as close to his body as their clothes would allow. It was surely sweeter than heaven itself, his presence grounding her, reminding her of all the reasons as to why she was still here. But then, all too soon, it was over, and he was slipping from her needy embrace with a growl of reluctance.

"I can't stay long," he rasped hastily, much to her dismay, "the last of the guests are staying for _digestifs_ in the drawing room," he rolled his eyes bitterly, "it won't be for much longer, I promise. I just knew I would rue the day I _ever_ agreed to this ridiculous party! If only Elsa would-"

"Captain," she interrupted gently, "it's alright.. I understand."

He looked so thoroughly guilt-ridden that she felt her heart ache for him, "I hope you can forgive me," he implored.

She nodded regretfully, her eyes downcast - what else could she really do but trust him? He was a good man, no matter how confused she might be - of that she was absolutely certain.

"Will you be alright?" He asked, holding her face gently in his hands, his eyes sombre. It was a question she wasn't sure how to answer - here they were in each other's arms and yet she had no idea what any of it meant, no idea what her future would hold, no idea what his intentions were, no idea which life it was she was born to live. But she knew now that running away from him would bring her no closer to the answers. She had to be brave. She had to be patient.

"I'll be fine, captain."

"Fraulein," he murmured tenderly, "it's _Georg_."

" _Georg.."_ she repeated on a whisper, the name sounding so foreign to her and yet feeling so intrinsic somehow.

He rested his forehead against hers then, her entire world narrowing to that one point of contact and the plea that eventually came from his lips: "Wait for me.."

And with that he turned on his heel and slipped from the room, leaving her to wonder in bewilderment whether his parting command had been intended only for tonight, or for the rest of her life.

* * *

One of the many attributes that had won Dieter Waltz favour in his navy days was his astute attention to detail. Whether it was predicting the enemy's next move, reading the body language of the fairer sex in every port, or analysing the unique disposition of each of his superiors, no one could really deny that the lieutenant was sharp as a tack. And it was this particular attribute that came into play when he noticed the host of the grand and glorious party slipping inconspicuously away from his guests and into the privacy of his study.

If there was one thing Dieter knew about Captain von Trapp, it was that he was equally as sharp, though perhaps with considerably more life experience. In fact he'd managed to elude every other remaining guest on his way to the study without raising so much as a single suspicion - a particularly impressive feat, given the nature of the vultures he'd invited. But what the captain had _failed_ to account for was the fact that Dieter Waltz was _always_ watching. And as a particularly curious man, Waltz had never been the type to let sleeping dogs lie...

* * *

When the handle of the study door began to turn for the second time that evening, Maria launched to her feet, her heart pounding at the thought of seeing Georg again. But when the visitor stepped into the room, her stomach dropped into her shoes, soaking her in cold dread – for it wasn't Georg at all...

" _Well well well_..." Lieutenant Waltz grinned with wicked triumph as he closed the door behind him with a deafening click, "I did wonder what kind of prize Georg was hiding away in here but _never_ did I suspect that I would be so lucky as to discover _you_ on the other side of the door."

Maria blanched, her stomach churning with discomfort.

"Though I could've sworn a little birdy told me you'd decided to return to the abbey... " he frowned, "I must admit I was rather disappointed when I heard. But I stand corrected, for here you are."

"The captain will be back any minute," Maria bleated unconvincingly, eliciting a bark of laughter from the lieutenant.

"We both know _full well_ my dear, that he's currently enjoying a whiskey or two in the drawing room with the remaining guests, most likely congratulating himself on the success of his latest catch.." he eyed her up and down sleazily, to the point that her skin crawled with disgust, " _lucky devil_.. " he sneered, "no wonder he's so eager to get this party over with... when he's got _you_ to crawl into bed with later."

He took a calculated step towards her and she felt her stomach tighten with fearful apprehension.

"Tell me Fraulein.. " he pressed, all humour having left his face, "why _him?_ You know, besides the obvious."

"I have no idea what you mean," she defended weakly, but he only smirked, taking another measured step towards her.

"I imagine a man like that plays heavily on the imagination of an impressionable young thing like you.. the charm, the wit, the authority," his eyes burned into her as he moved closer still, "We _are_ a rare breed after all.."

"You're nothing like him!" She protested, more loudly this time, attempting to back away from him as though he were a prowling panther. But soon enough her back hit the wall behind her and panic bloomed in her chest when she realised he had her cornered.

"Well why don't you find out?" He leered suddenly, closing the gap between them with a final stride and pinning her against the wall with his body. Almost immediately her instincts took over and she struggled against him, shoving her fists into his chest with all her might - but he didn't so much as flinch.

"I could bring you to the heights of rapture, my dear," his breath was stale with alcohol against her cheek, "I could help you forget all about your feelings for a man who does not return them.."

"Get off me!" She snarled, but he ignored her, his face mere centimetres from hers.

"I could make you feel things he's _never_ made you feel.."

"Like revulsion?!" She growled, shoving him again, but he only chuckled dangerously.

"Just as I said before. An absolute _spitfire_..."

She was about to scream for help, despite the fact that doing so would surely expose her - but she was saved from the humiliation when the door suddenly flew open, the wood banging so menacingly against the adjacent wall that the lieutenant's entire body froze against her. She didn't have to look up to know who the new arrival was - the sudden and dangerous shift in the atmosphere left her in very little doubt. And sure enough, a glance at the doorway confirmed that it was the captain, looking more murderous than she'd ever seen him.

It took Georg only a split second to react to the scene he'd walked in on. Without so much as a single warning, flames of unrelenting rage erupted in his stomach and he lunged forward, grabbing fistfuls of Dieter's coat and throwing him against the opposite wall, pinning him by the throat with surprising strength. He heard Maria's gasp of surprise from behind him, could feel the menacing chuckle bubbling in the lieutenant's throat under his fingers, and the blood pounded in his ears as he fought the urge to punch the smirk repeatedly from the lieutenant's face.

"Hit a nerve did I _captain_?" Dieter rasped gleefully, "we were only getting better acquainted."

"Do not think for _one minute_ ," Georg growled, his fist tightening round the lieutenant's throat, "that I won't expose you for what you really are without a moment's hesitation!"

"Likewise," the lieutenant sneered meaningfully, his eyes darting to Maria. Blanching angrily at the insinuation, Georg was on the cusp of losing his temper entirely, but Maria stepped forward just in the nick of time.

"Captain?" She murmured gently, placing her hand on his forearm, "please.. don't do this."

"Indeed!" Dieter rasped mockingly, his smirk widening, "don't do this, Georg. If anything we should settle this score like _men_ , not squabbling children, wouldn't you agree?"

With a hard shove, Georg finally released him and Maria watched as his lips curled into a snarl, the lieutenant massaging his reddened neck.

"If you think I'm going to fight you in a house full of guests," Georg spat, "you're denser than even _I_ anticipated."

"What kind of _brutish commoner_ do you take me for! A _fight_ indeed," Dieter retorted with mock offence, straightening his rumpled jacket as though the altercation had barely phased him, "we're not in a port bar looking for a _brawl_ Georg. I was referring to the age-old ritual of _crossing swords_ for a gentleman's honour..."

Despite her growing fear at the intensity of the confrontation, Maria nearly burst out laughing at the lieutenant's declaration. Did he really intend to challenge the captain to a _duel,_ of all things? The prospect of the two aristocrats slapping one another with their starch white gloves while declaring _en garde_ seemed so ridiculous it was almost comical!

She couldn't help the mirthful roll of her eyes and the scoff that escaped her throat, "Come now lieutenant, you _can't_ be seriou-"

"Name your terms!" The captain interrupted sharply as Maria choked on her own words.

"Captain!" she reprimanded in disbelief, but he ignored her, shrugging aggressively out of his tail coat with obvious intent, his face marred with anger.

"Aha _that's_ more like it old boy!" Dieter exclaimed wickedly, shrugging out of his own coat and thrusting it at the sofa, "no time like the present! The foyer seems apt enough. I take it Detweiler will be your second?"

 _"Naturally_ ," the captain barked, rolling up his shirt sleeves as Maria's panic mounted. _What in God's name was going on and what on earth was a second?!_ But she didn't have time to find out, for the captain was already storming towards the cabinet on the wall behind his desk and she realised with alarm that he was going for the very same swords that she'd inspected earlier behind the glass. Wrenching open the cabinet doors, he wrapped his fists around the hilts and ripped the weapons from their velvet holds, turning around and launching one through the air for his opponent to catch - which he did with effortless ease. It was already painfully obvious to Maria that both men were skilled swordsmen but she didn't care to find out which one would triumph in a battle of skill.

"Now just _wait one minute_!" She cried in an attempt to diffuse the rapidly escalating situation - as though she was dealing with an intensifying scuffle between Friedrich and Kurt - but it was no use. It was like she was suddenly invisible!

"No armour, no foul play, and the first man to surrender loses!" Waltz commanded with devilish glee, evidently taking great delight in the scandalous turn of events, "anything else is fair game, as you well know!"

"As you wish!" Georg growled with finality, gesturing sharply for Waltz to make his way out into the foyer and onto the battlefield, "after you... _lieutenant."_

* * *

 **A/N: I know it's a little silly the thought of a fencing duel breaking out but I couldn't resist having a little fun with this chapter and the next! And I can completely imagine CvT and the Lieutenant acting like boys with toys in this scenario. But who knows, maybe I've ruined the plot - let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy it! I actually found the fight scene extremeeeellyyy difficult to write so I hope I've done it justice. Equally, I hope you don't find the whole thing too far-fetched, I feel like I've written it in such a way that it could be perceivable but let me know if I've failed miserably!**

 **And finally, I've used a few pars from one of my other stories as it pretty much fit the exact nature of the scene. Just an FYI in case you recognised it**

* * *

Thoroughly alarmed and more than a little bewildered by the sudden turn of events, Maria didn't even hesitate when she scurried after the two men and out into the foyer, clinging onto the nearest marble pillar for support. Attired in her hideous grey dress that even the poor didn't want, she would surely stick out like a sore thumb amongst the captain's remaining guests - but under the circumstances, such a trivial concern hardly entered her mind. Governesses were meant to be seen and not heard after all; they were meant to blend inconspicuously into the background - and so it seemed unlikely that anybody would even give her a second glance from behind the safety of her pillar. And so from there she decided to watch with bated breath, heart in her throat.

From the venom with which the two men had antagonised one another in the study, she'd expected an impulsive eruption of savage and scandalous combat the minute they'd taken to the foyer floor - but it appeared she'd been reading too many swashbuckling fairytales, for that wasn't how it happened at all.

Instead, the lieutenant proudly garnered the attention of the remaining guests in the drawing room, spreading his arms wide with a grin in the doorway and announcing that the evening's entertainment would end with a fencing match between the gracious host and his long-term navy acquaintance. This led to a titter of excitement amongst the ladies and gentlemen as they filtered out into the foyer, lining the outside walls to form a devoted audience while smoking cigars and sipping the last of their champagne jovially. Among them was Baroness Shraeder and Maria sank further behind the pillar, her stomach tightening at the thought of being discovered.

Herr Detweiler was formally selected as the captain's 'second', while the lieutenant chose an older looking gentleman Maria didn't recognise. Indeed the whole thing seemed entirely too _civilised,_ in Maria's humble opinion. Methodical, strategic, regimented even - as though it were commonplace in the lives of the aristocracy for two men to duel one another at a dinner party. Though really she ought not to have been surprised. These were navy men after all, respected members of society with a house full of guests.. not common barbarians.

"Have you agreed upon your terms?" Herr Detweiler stated, refereeing the two participants with theatrical gusto in the centre of the foyer, no doubt for the sake of his devoted audience - proving himself to be every bit the impresario his reputation suggested. Both men nodded curtly.

"You're aware of the rules," the impresario continued breezily as though he'd done this a million times before, "and let's try and keep it _clean_ shall we?" He added with a smirk.

He took a few steps back then and declared: "gentlemen, as our beloved French neighbours would say.. _en garde_!" - and the two men saluted one another with a scowl before poising with their weapons raised like wolves on their haunches.

Maria could've heard a pin drop, the thick hush stretching on for all eternity as Herr Detweiler paused for deliciously dramatic effect, one arm raised high above his head. And then finally, he brought the same arm down in a swift movement that Maria presumed marked the start of the match.

The men began circling each other, poised like snakes ready to strike, and the impresario hurriedly backed out of the firing line, only to beeline straight for an unsuspecting Maria. With an inelegant little _umphh_ they banged into each other behind her trusty pillar and Maria's stomach dropped into her shoes when Herr Detweiler turned to discover exactly _who_ he'd accidentally trodden on. But if the impresario was shocked to see her there, he certainly didn't show it.

"Oh, _hello_ Fraulein Maria, my dear!" He chirped, his eyes quickly returning to the match with delighted interest, "decided to join us mere mortals after all?" He chuckled, "I was rather lonely without a dinner partner you know! Though you've picked a _most_ opportune time to join the fun!"

Maria could only open and close her mouth repeatedly like a gold fish, entirely caught off guard - but she quickly reassured herself that the impresario had no idea where'd she'd been the last few hours. Like everybody else, he would simply assume that she'd been up in the nursery and had come down to see what all the commotion was about. And if he noticed her bizarre change of attire he didn't say anything, his eyes firmly glued instead to the scene playing out in the middle of the room. With that comforting notion in mind, she allowed herself to settle her own attention on the spectacle, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Won't they hurt themselves without any protective attire?" She bleated before she could hold her tongue, watching the two men sizing each other up - but the impresario merely chuckled knowingly, rolling his moustache between his forefinger and thumb.

"Noooo, those are just epee swords - strictly for fencing," he explained with a wave of his hand, "they might get a little nick here and there, but a baby could teeth on them!"

Suddenly, and quite without warning, Lieutenant Waltz lunged forward with a growl and a violent jab of his weapon towards his opponent, eliciting an excited exclamation from the crowd as the captain managed to block the impending strike with a sharp clash of steel upon steel. Maria's hand flew to her throat.

" _Ohh ho,_ this is going to be brilliant!" Herr Detweiler guffawed to no one in particular, rubbing his hands together, "I wonder if I can get a wager going.."

It seemed the lieutenant's first move had motivated a series of consequent ones, for almost immediately the two men had burst into action, sparring in a choreographed but menacing demonstration of skill, the unnerving whip of metal slicing through the air and the stinging sound of clashing blades ricocheting off the walls.

"You know.." Herr Detweiler spoke animatedly in a low whisper, his eyes still glued to the scene, "Georg used to be a fencing champion! He was a member of the _Österreichischer Fechtverband_.. and in the navy we used to mess about with old chair legs and broom handles to take our minds off things. He was always unbeatable! But of course that was all before the late baroness von Trapp passed away," he gave a wistful little shrug, "After that I suppose it just became another part of his past.. though he doesn't seem to have lost his touch!"

Maria's eyebrows rose in astonishment. The captain was a keen fencer? She'd had absolutely no idea. As a man of wealth and background, he unsurprisingly possessed a variety of talents that she'd discovered and delighted in during her time as governess. Horseback riding, piano playing, and - as if she could ever forget - singing in a baritone melody with a guitar to accompany him. But fencing had never once been mentioned. Was there anything this man _couldn't_ do? she wondered.

One look at the disarming combination of grace and power with which his body moved across the foyer and she was forced to conclude that the answer to her question was a resounding _no_. In her biased opinion, she had to admit he looked rather like a God amongst men - broad, athletic.. the strong pillars of his legs, the subtle flex of his dark forearms, the imposing breadth of his shoulders, the light ripple of muscles paving his back, the sheer strength and agility of his body as it moved under his white pressed shirt and waistcoat. The combination of staunch aristocrat and virile male was stirring to say the least. And it seemed she wasn't the only one to think so.

" _Lord almighty,_ I'm going to need my smelling salts if they keep this up!" Hissed a young woman to her friend only a few feet away, the two of them succumbing to a fit of silent giggles, "would you just look at them! Have you ever seen such... such _vigour_?"

Maria was looking alright, and she held her breath in dreaded anticipation as the altercation became increasingly more heated. Swift, agile and as light on their feet as a pair of cats, the men were darting this way and that, the skilful flick of their wrists causing the weapons to blur in a flurry of constant movement. The pair were dodging sickening jabs and lunging at each other with such ferocity that the crowd suddenly had to part with a titter of scandalised alarm when they hurtled towards the nearest wall, the captain pinning his opponent across the chest with the brute strength of his forearm, his teeth bared in anger.

With a snarl of determination the lieutenant managed to shove himself free and sent the captain staggering backwards in the process, advancing on him without a moment's hesitation. Swords clashed again and a vase went crashing to the ground mere moments later when the lieutenant sent his opponent flying into the nearby vanity, eliciting another shriek from the crowd.

"This is surely getting out of hand!" Maria croaked anxiously, her heart hammering in her ribs, "surely one of us should _do_ something?!"

"The first rule in this house is not _always_ discipline my dear.." the impresario chuckled gleefully, "They're not in any real danger. And besides," he added with a wicked grin, collecting a few notes of cash from the surrounding gentleman, "I'm putting my money on Georg!"

The captain was in hot pursuit again, recovering himself quickly and haring after his retreating rival. He'd become quite disheveled, Maria noticed - eyes burning with undisguised fire, shirt coming loose, hair falling onto his forehead - and the entire scene was doing strange things to her insides that had very little to do with anxiety. She'd seen glimpses of his softer side, become more acquainted with the complex and passionate man behind the title... but never had she seen him quite like _this._

Taken by surprise by the captain's rebuff, the lieutenant recoiled too hastily and crashed through the ballroom doors into the room beyond, his opponent hot on his heels as they disappeared out of sight.

"Oh no no no no!" Maria cried.

"Oh _YES!"_ Max exclaimed with mischievous delight, as he and the rest of the transfixed audience flooded to the doorway from whence came the continual sounds of vigorous conflict. Maria rushed after them without a moment's hesitation, balancing on her tip toes to see over Herr Detweiler's shoulder. The scene that greeted her could've almost been considered _comical,_ if it weren't for the fact that her heart was in her mouth. A bewildered Franz and a team of kitchen staff were clearing up the mess left behind by the party, but they jumped out of their skins and scattered like marbles the second they saw the pair of sword-wielding combatants thundering towards them.

A flurry of lunges here, a series of jabs there, a sequence of endless and intricate steps that made it impossible for Maria to keep up. The captain dodged behind a table to avoid a particularly vicious swipe and the lieutenant, having lost his patience, upended the piece of furniture with a strained shout that dissolved into a devilish laugh as he advanced. Scandalised whispers had broken out amongst the crowd, the ladies and gentleman of high society apparently not quite prepared for _this_ level of sportsmanship..

Quick as a dart and strong as an ox, the captain kicked a stray chair in his opponent's direction, sending Waltz crashing to the ground, his epee slipping from his hand and skidding out of reach. The lieutenant scrambled for the weapon, launching to his feet, but the captain was too fast for him. With a skilled and rapid flick of his wrist, his weapon was at the lieutenant's throat and-

"That's quite enough!"

The two men stilled instantly, locked in a fierce glare as their chests heaved, the captain's weapon still poised at the lieutenant's neck as though ready to strike. It was the baroness who'd issued the firm command, stepping into the room with eyes blazing, though she did well to hide it, looking serene and unaffected as ever.

"I think that's quite enough for one evening, gentleman," she said tersely, the tension in the room thick as the audience gawped at the scene. The seconds of awkward silence stretched on, no one quite sure how to react - had they just witnessed the year's biggest scandal, or was it no more than two boisterous old friends getting overly competitive? No one seemed sure, and when the atmosphere in the room became almost too tense to bear Herr Detweiler finally stepped forward, diffusing the situation in true aristocratic fashion.

"Bravo!" he cried with a beaming smile, applauding enthusiastically, "what a _sensational_ performance! Almost as riveting as the children's!"

The crowd dissolved into a titter of relaxed laughter then, following Max's lead and applauding as the men slowly lowered their weapons. It seemed the crisis had been averted, much to Maria's relief. General chit chat resumed a few moments later as the guests began to talk amongst themselves, filtering back towards the drawing room to finish the last of the brandy. The fight was already old news, it appeared, and as much as she wanted to stay behind, Maria knew it was too risky. Soon, it would only be the baroness, the lieutenant and the captain who remained in the ballroom - and she didn't much fancy the prospect of having to explain her presence to the socialite, who was currently fixing the two men with a particularly sour look from under her mascara-d lashes.

Joining the retreating crowd, Maria managed to slip away and back to the safety of the study, undetected.

* * *

Georg's head was spinning, adrenaline still thundering through his veins long after they'd both lowered their weapons, and he felt the anger bubbling in his gut as the lieutenant's face spread in a wide and mirthful chuckle.

"All's fair in love and war eh, Georg old boy!" Waltz grinned wickedly, trying to catch his breath, "what jolly good fun!"

Georg said nothing, acutely aware of Elsa's eyes boring into him from a few feet away. He'd behaved abominably, he knew. No better than a common rake - he was disheveled, sweaty, bruised, entirely exhausted. Elsa would surely be furious at the scene they'd both created, and at _her_ grand and glorious party no less. And suddenly he was rather grateful that the three of them no longer had an audience, for he wagered the conversation to come would be difficult at best.

"Dieter, I think it's time that you took you leave," Elsa said quietly. Waltz looked momentarily surprised, but for once he chose not to argue, "and then," Elsa added, turning wistfully to Georg, "I think perhaps it would be best if I did the same.."

"Elsa..." Georg began regretfully, but she held up a gentle hand to interrupt him.

"Dieter, if you would excuse us.." she insisted, and begrudgingly, the lieutenant straightened, making his way out of the room and leaving an eerie silence in his wake.

There was a moment's uncomfortable pause, so many unspoken words just waiting to be said.

"Elsa," Georg sighed, "I'm sorry…"

"What for darling?" She replied with a sad smile, "for ruining the party or for falling in love with the governess?"

He at least had the good grace to look momentarily astonished and Elsa took the opportunity to gather her composure, tears threatening to sting her eyes. What Georg _didn't_ know was that she'd witnessed the governess's return - she'd caught a glimpse of the girl in the foyer hiding behind a pillar before the duel broke out. At first, Elsa had done a double-take, hardly believing her eyes - but there was absolutely no mistaking that hideous grey dress. The girl had come back. And Elsa's initial shock had been great, her stomach plummeting into her high society heels. She'd briefly considered scaring the girl away one last time, but she'd known almost instantly that it really was no use. She'd lost Georg's heart to another.

"I've been dishonest.. " Georg admitted, "to both of us. And _utterly_ unfair to you..."

"No don't," she simpered breathlessly, halting his words, "Don't say another word, please."

Georg wanted the ground to swallow him up - anything to prevent him from having to acknowledge the hurt in her eyes. This woman had helped him through some of the most difficult days of his life, had wrenched the bottle from his hand when he'd drank himself into oblivion, had dragged him back into the welcome bustle of the aristocratic social scene when he'd been too broken to leave his bed. Elsa had brought some meaning back into his ever darkening world. But in the end, it hadn't quite been enough. And somehow she had been rendered the victim in all of this, despite her manipulative part in Maria's departure. It seemed that love, no matter how beautiful and unexpected, didn't come without sacrifice.

"You see, there _are_ other things I've been thinking of, besides the party I mean," her eyes fell to the floor as she attempted to gather herself. His Elsa had never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve.

"Fond as I am of you, I really don't think you're the right man for me. You're much too independent. And I need someone who needs me desperately," she offered a watery smile while still looking every bit the epitome of aristocratic perfection in her golden dress, "or at least needs my money desperately!"

She was admitting defeat, he knew. She was stepping aside graciously to allow him a chance at true happiness, and the realisation made his chest ache with gratitude and remorse.

"I've enjoyed every moment we've had together and I do thank you for that," their eyes met again and he offered her the smallest of compassionate smiles, a silent acknowledgment that he would forever be in her debt for her unexpected act of kindness.

"Now, if you'll forgive me, I'm going to retire for the evening. But in the morning I shall pack my little bags and return to Vienna where I belong."

Her final smile was fleeting but genuine. How he would ever repay her he wasn't sure.

"Auf Wiedersehen, darling."

She turned on her heels and sashayed out of sight, leaving him with a heavy heart for having caused her such pain. But it had been a necessary evil, a selfish twist of fate that brought him one step closer to achieving his own happiness.

"Auf Wiedersehen, Elsa."

* * *

 **A/N: so let me know what you think! As you may have guessed, I know very little about fencing and so please do excuse me any factual inaccuracies!**

 **Also, a lovely reviewer asked whether this will eventually become an M-rating, and to that I can only say… I do hope so!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: not sure how happy I am with this but I've kept you all waiting long enough. I hope you enjoy it –I've tried to capture a nice mix of emotion and passion but not so sure I've succeeded. Again I've used a few lines from a previous story, just FYI.**

* * *

Maria was bordering on _restless_ , practically climbing up the study walls with unbearable anticipation, when the captain finally walked through the door. A bizarre kind of hush had befallen the house, a direct contrast to the excitable hubbub of activity that had taken place only a half hour ago. It could only mean one thing, Maria knew: the remaining guests had finally taken their leave - and she wondered, her heart in her throat, whether the baroness and lieutenant Waltz had been among them.

As soon as her eyes fell on her employer, she jumped from the sofa and flew to him instinctively, wanting the reassurance of his arms around her again - but much to her dismay he held up a firm hand to stop her mid movement. She halted immediately, her face falling in confusion, searching his eyes for answers - but all she could find there was dejection. He looked defeated, exhausted, troubled - his face was a grave mask and he hadn't bothered to right his disheveled appearance since the duel. He didn't meet her gaze, and the sinking feeling in her gut was enough to have her clutching at her stomach.

Not for the first time, she wondered whether she'd read too much into his affections and considered the very real possibility that he might marry the baroness after all. It was not so uncommon, in his world, that distinguished gentlemen would take up affairs with their staff - even _she_ , in all her naivety, was aware of that fact. But the most troubling thing was, she was no longer sure she had the will to resist him. She couldn't go back to the abbey, that much was already certain. Not when she'd so willingly felt a man's touch, craved it like the very oxygen she breathed.

But it was not only the physical longing that kept her rooted to the spot. It was something far greater, far more powerful than that - a deep, intrinsic need burning ferociously in her heart to be with him whatever the cost. Could she really do it? she wondered. Could she take whatever it was he had to offer her, even if it turned out to be nothing more than a life of secrecy and stolen moments behind closed doors? If he were to take her hand and lead her to his bed at this very moment, to love her only with his body without so much as a word spoken between them - could she lie with him, knowing it was all he could give her?

Yes, she believed she could. Despite her fear. _Despite it all._

Because she _loved_ him. She knew that now. She loved him for all that he was and all that he wasn't, and for everything in between. Love could be a complex and torturous emotion - she had learnt the hard way that it rarely ever turned out like the romances depicted in Gretl's favourite story books. The captain and the loss of his first wife were a prime example of the pain and suffering that love could cause - and perhaps if she were a better woman, Maria would walk away from the danger now while she still had the chance. But she knew already that she wasn't going anywhere...

When she'd first overheard the terrible rumours about herself and her employer, she'd been horrified and ashamed by the degrading insinuations. She'd always assumed that men and women who fell into bed with one another out of wedlock were wicked, corrupt, depraved individuals who couldn't control their most basal desires. But never had she considered that such people might be acting purely on irrepressible _love_. She knew now that it was not a simple case of black and white. Some people lived in miserable marriages of convenience only to find themselves falling in love with another - while others had been torn from the ones they loved by circumstance and upbringing. It did not make them sinners, it made them _human._ And if the captain were to offer her his love - no matter which form it took - she knew she would take it without a moment's hesitation, cherishing it for the rest of her life.

He would always be the most honourable man she'd ever known. If he gave her any less than she longed for, it would not be through choice, but because of the invisible shackles his world had clamped firmly around his wrists. Men like him simply did not marry women like her, even if they wanted to. Not in this day and age. Not in this circle of society. To do so would be to shame his family, his children, his late wife's memory. Desperation would be the thing that led them to the only alternative: a forbidden and undeniable love that only the two of them would ever know about. And she had prepared herself for exactly that - to follow him into the flames if he were only to ask. To have it any other way, to be torn from him without ever feeling the intimacy she longed for, would surely destroy her. She _needed_ him, they needed each other. Of that she was absolutely certain.

Solemnly, he cleared his throat, pulling her from her disturbing reverie.

"Take a seat.. please," he gestured to the sofa, his voice soft but commanding - and she obeyed wordlessly as he slumped into his own chair behind the desk, running a weary hand over his face. He paused for long moments, staring at the mahogany in front of him as though trying to figure out how exactly he should proceed. She longed to go to him, to sooth him - to tell him somehow that she would stay with him, _for_ him, no matter the circumstances. But she couldn't find the nerve.. not yet. Not like this.

"You know..." he began as though talking to himself, "for the first time in my life I find myself in a quandary I can see no way out of..."

She swallowed hard.

"Here I sit, wanting more than anything to ask you to stay, and yet I have no right to do so. I know nothing of why you tried to leave in the first place," he frowned a little, "That is, I _think_ I know.. but I can't be certain. Not without you being honest with me. And so we are going to talk. _Properly_ this time. Without... _temptation_ getting in the way..."

He looked at her then, a look of tenderness that set her pulse racing.

"And so I will ask again, Maria... " he said gently, "why were you running away to the abbey?"

She looked down at her hands, twisting them in her lap, trying to find words that could possibly explain her predicament to him.

"I was.. frightened..." she managed feebly.

"By what the baroness said to you?"

"Yes and no," she took a shaking breath, "I.. the baroness made me confront what I already knew but refused to believe.. "

He nodded gravely in understanding, "So you were frightened of what was happening between us.." he observed quietly.

"I was _confused_.. " she stammered, her eyes downcast, "I've never felt that way before, I.. I knew that if I left I'd be away from it. I'd be safe."

There was a long silence then while he seemed to ponder over her words, his brow knitted in thought - and just when she began to question whether he was ever going to speak again, he hauled himself into a standing position and began absentmindedly pacing the carpet in front of his desk, his hands anchored to his hips.

"And therein lies the crux of my problem, you see," he muttered as though to no one in particular.

Her brow creased in confusion, "I don't understand..."

He stopped abruptly then, turning to face her, his eyes churning with uncertainty.

"Who am I to lure you from the safety of God's path, when it's all you've ever wanted for yourself?" He beseeched, "What right do I have to ask you to stay when it was _I_ who caused you to flee?"

"But I _would_ stay!" She cried, jumping to her feet in her attempt to alleviate his evident distress, "With you. If you asked me to. If I knew it was what you really wanted..." she took a deep shuddering breath and forged bravely on, her heart hammering, "I was afraid yes, but not of you! _Never_ of you! Only of feelings I didn't dare to understand..."

He continued to pace like a caged animal, his face marred with guilt.

"But I understand all too well now... " she whispered, daring herself to say it, to leave him with little doubt, "I understand what it would need to be.. _like_ between us, if I chose to stay. And I'm not afraid of it, not anymore," she looked heavenward, feeling the colour rising in her cheeks, "You must know captain - _Georg_ \- that I... I will give you whatever you ask for. _Wholeheartedly_."

He was rendered momentarily speechless, whirling to face her with his mouth agape. Of all the things he'd expected her to say, he could not have anticipated that she would offer to... Surely she could not be suggesting what he thought she might be suggesting?! He watched, fascinated, as her body betrayed the myriad of emotions she was evidently feeling. Hesitance, anxiety, desire, embarrassment, curiosity... but most of all, a burning determination boring into him from under thick lashes, a look that told him she couldn't be more serious. And suddenly the atmosphere in the room shifted as they stared at each other, the air simmering with a new and dangerous charge left behind by the startling implications of her confession. Ashamed of himself, he tried to ignore the low stirrings of desire beginning to curl in his stomach, but he was fighting a losing battle, he knew.

"You don't know what you're saying.. what you're _offering_!" He sputtered, incredulous, but it was no use. He knew his eyes were already portraying his need for her - he could tell from the blush that was creeping down her neck and underneath the collar of her dress.

"I know full well what I'm offering..." she implored, her trembling voice barely above a whisper.

 _"Don't say it_!" He choked, not trusting himself to resist the sound of the words coming from those heavenly lips, but she forged bravely on, her eyes flaming with defiant courage.

"My body," she breathed, "my heart. They are _yours."_

Time seemed to stand still then, as his pulse thundered in his ears and fire spread like electricity through his veins. He could hardly believe it - she was willing to give up her future for an uncertain life with him, just to feel his touch, just to experience his love - and his chest swelled with overwhelming affection for her; for the sacrifices she was willing to make for him, for her courage and her vulnerability, for the sheer capacity of the love she had to give - and he couldn't remember a time when he'd wanted _anything_ more than he wanted her in those few, unearthly moments.

" _I'm_ yours, Georg.. "

"Oh _darling,"_ he croaked, giving up the fight at last and closing the gap between them in one easy stride, threading his hands into her hair and kissing her with a need that surpassed anything he'd felt in years. He had every intention of pulling away from her after a few moments, to give them both a fighting chance at finishing their important discussion. He had so much more still to _say,_ after all. But her sob of relief, the way she clung to him - it stirred something else within him, something dark and urgent - and he realised he had no desire to stop just yet, not with the woman he loved so pliant in his arms.

The kiss began to deepen, his mouth moving frantically over hers and within minutes they'd somehow found themselves up against the desk, she clutching at his disheveled shirt, and he cursing the impenetrable thickness of her hideous grey dress. But _by God_ she was beautiful. And he found himself becoming ravenous, ragged, desperate as he pressed every inch of himself against her, licking at her mouth, tasting the rapid pulse at the base of her throat, groping possessively at any curve he could reach through the blasted material.

Just as he was contemplating the damage that would be done to his belongings, not to mention her virtue, if he were to make room on the desk for the two of them, she abruptly broke away from his embrace, eyes wild and chest heaving. His heart sank almost immediately, and he cursed his own lack of self control - clearly he'd taken his affectionate assault a little _too_ far this time.

"Darling, I-" he began, an apology waiting on his lips, but much to his astonishment she only turned around, showing her back to him. Palms resting on the edge of the desk, she looked back over her shoulder as though waiting for him to do something - and he realised, as his eyes fell on the row of buttons lining her spine, that she was asking him silently to free her from the confines of her dress.

A low groan escaped his throat, and he watched, mesmerised as her body shuddered in response to the sound. Unbearable moments passed where he didn't move at all and Maria convinced herself that he was surely going to keep her waiting for all eternity - when finally she felt him take a step closer, his breath grazing like hot silk against the skin of her neck. She was reminded almost instantly of their encounter in the library, the way he'd come so intoxicatingly close without laying a finger on her, and she prayed now that he would not be so honourable this time around. She arched into his proximity, her eyes fluttering closed - and she gasped aloud when _finally_ he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, biting possessively at the pulse he found thundering there.

With agonising slowness, his blood turning hot, he began to make work of the buttons on her dress, toying gently with each little stud as though giving her all the time in the world to change her mind. Heat unfurled in her stomach as she felt him drag his lips across her skin, lighting a torturously languid path from her neck to her shoulder blades where the material had begun to part.

"Tell me to stop. We need to _stop_..." he murmured against her skin, his hands dancing further down the row of buttons and gradually invading the gap in the material where the bare flesh of her waist was exposed. But she couldn't tell him to stop, she _wouldn't_ tell him to stop. Instead all she managed was a moan that caused him to grip her hips and press his body flush against hers, his fingertips stroking the satin arch of her back. He could've sworn he could feel her thundering heartbeat under his touch, or perhaps it was his own - but it was enough to cloud any real attempt at sanity. She still had no idea what his true intentions were, _for God's sake_ , and yet he was doing an abysmal job of explaining it to her. But her sighs were too intoxicating, her skin too soft, his need for her too great - and the knowledge that she was willing to be with him no matter the cost was making it impossible for him to let go of her.

At her lack of protest, he found himself losing his last bit of resolve, utterly desperate to be as close as was humanly possible to the woman he loved. Instinct took over as he turned her back round to face him, surprised to find her mouth on his before he'd even had a chance to catch a breath. Utterly lost to her ministrations, he was barely aware of his mutinous hands tugging gently at the material of her dress, pulling it down her shoulders and allowing it to pool around her waist. His loving fingertips caressed her bare shoulders, her arms, her collarbone as though she was made of fragile porcelain - but it wasn't until she began panting against his mouth that he realised his hands had gone one step further, pushing the cups of her bra aside and freeing her untouched breasts to the cool air.

He pulled back, his mind foggy, and felt an instant tug in his groin as he drank in the sight of her naked torso, watching as her skin tightened under his forbidden touch. It was _this_ \- this heady, intense, beautiful, dangerous, overwhelming connection between them that made him feel as though he could let go, as though he could do _anything_. And before he knew it, before he could stop himself, he was sinking to his knees and his mouth was descending upon her bare skin, taking a nipple between his teeth and suckling gently, forcing a cry of joyous surprise from her throat.

As he tasted her there for the first time, her fingers threading into his hair and pulling his mouth closer, he realised with a sudden and startling guilt that if he didn't put an end to this rapidly escalating encounter then it would be too late. A few more minutes and all reason would be lost, a few more caresses and he'd be taking her virtue against the desk. And for that, he would never forgive himself - not when she was so willing to sacrifice everything for him without so much as a single promise for the future.

On his knees before her, he eventually slowed his exploring lips and stilled his movements, reducing the violent boil to a simmer as he rested his forehead in the valley between her breasts so that he could catch his breath. The tight grip of her fingers in his hair eventually loosened and she began to stroke his head comfortingly instead, somehow understanding his abrupt change in behaviour without a single word having to pass between them. They stayed like that for long minutes then, she smoothing her fingers through his hair and he clinging to her as though he were afraid she might disappear.

"I love you," he whispered suddenly against her skin, the intensity of the declaration piercing the impenetrable silence, "did you know that?"

He heard her sharp intake of breath, could feel her stiffen in shock against his body - her face flushed and her guileless eyes as wide as he'd ever seen them.

"I.. I _thought_ I knew," she rasped, trembling against him, eyes shining with unshed tears, "but I hardly dared to believe it..."

"Oh, my love..." he stood then, helping her right her clothing with a sheepish smile and running his fingers down her satin cheek.

"I meant what I said.. " she breathed, her face contorted with a mix of anguish and adoration, "I _will_ stay. For you... " she swallowed hard, staring at the cross around his neck, "even if it means watching you and the baroness-"

"Maria.. " he interrupted gently, "there isn't going to _be_ any baroness. She's leaving for Vienna in the morning."

"I don't understand..."

"We've parted ways, you see."

Her eyes widened then, darting to meet his, and suddenly she was staring at him as though he'd sprouted a second head.

"But... but you were going to _marry her_!"

"I made no such promise," he retorted, frowning slightly, "I have no intention of marrying one woman while being in love with another."

But.. but that's how it _works_!" She cried, incredulous, "You marry for circumstance and take a mistress for love!"

"Who on earth told you that?"

"It's just.. just the way things _are,_ isn't it?!" She insisted, her hand flying to her hair, "they were all _thinking_ it! Your peers! It's the way things are done! In _this_ world.."

"Not in _my_ world!" he declared definitively, "I mean yes, plenty of men _do_ take mistresses but I was never one of them! It's not what _I_ want.."

She could only stare at him in bewilderment, her mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a goldfish.

"I want _you._ Not just your body Maria, but _all_ of you," he said simply, "All of you or nothing at all..."

"But-"

"Marry me," he beseeched, taking her trembling fingers and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, "accept my hand. And most importantly, acknowledge that you are _worthy_ of it. You must know I want nothing else."

She sputtered incoherently with complete and utter disbelief. Surely he wasn't serious?! The lieutenant had surely knocked a screw loose in his head with that godforsaken sword of his, "you've gone mad!" She cried, wrenching her hand from his, "completely mad!"

"Perhaps," he grinned, "you _have_ been driving me to distraction all summer. But in fact, I couldn't be more serious." After a few moments of observing her astonishment, his face became a solemn mask again, his voice barely above a murmur, "you thought I would marry Elsa and love you in secret..."

"I thought... oh I don't know _what_ I thought!" She implored, clutching at her stomach, "It wasn't because I assumed you were dishonourable.. not at all! It was because I didn't think you had a _choice!_ All I knew was that I loved you... and I would stay with you no matter what, because I dared to believe deep down that you loved me too. Even if you never said the words to me, Georg, I would've _known_. And I would've stayed."

It was the first time she'd said it out loud - the fact that she loved him - and his heart soared more than he ever thought possible.

"Look at me," he commanded gently, and she complied, their gazes locking in a way that made her breath hitch in her throat. She knew then, more than ever, that the man she loved would find everything he would ever need to know with just one glance into her eyes.

"We _always_ have a choice, Maria my love," he said, the tenderness in his voice coiling around her heart, "the question is, which one will you make?"

* * *

 **A/N: We all know what choice Maria makes in the end and so I wanted to finish the story in a slightly different way to the standard "will you marry me?" "yes Georg I will marry you" type thing. Don't worry, there will be a lovely little M-rated epilogue at some point if you all want one? As always, your thoughts are most welcome.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: So I got a bit carried away and wrote 3,000 words without even getting halfway through my epilogue.. so I'm splitting it into two parts for you! I hope you don't mind. It just means I get to give you this update a little quicker while I write the second part!**

* * *

 **Epilogue - Part One**

"What are the rules of _this_ particular game?" Georg asked, perplexed, as he settled down on the steps next to Maria and watched the children frolic on the grass with what appeared to be three different sized balls and a very large stick. Their uncle Max had somehow been roped into the fun, Georg noticed, and he chuckled smugly when he saw the impresario stop for a moment, rest his hands on his knees and gasp for breath, clearly exhausted.

"I'm afraid I haven't quite been able to figure this one out yet," she laughed, a lovely joyous laugh that had him reaching instinctively for one of her hands.

"Oi!" Came Max's sudden shout from the grass, and they looked up to find him wagging his finger at them, "don't think I'm not watching you!" He teased, "you should know by now that, as chaperone, it's my duty to _never_ take my eye off the ball!" With impeccable timing, an over-enthusiastic Kurt hurled one of the balls he was holding at his unsuspecting uncle, hitting him square in the stomach. The impresario immediately doubled over with an undignified _oomphhh!_ and Maria wagered that Georg's resulting guffaw could've been heard all the way on the other side of the lake.

A peaceful kind of serenity had befallen the villa since Maria had accepted her captain's unexpected proposal. It had always been a particular rarity in her life that things ever went smoothly, but by some miracle everything seemed to have slotted almost perfectly into place. The man she loved not only loved her in return, but also wanted to _marry_ her, to have her mother his children - and she couldn't quite believe her good fortune. She had found the life she was born to live...at last.

"You see," Georg bristled, "I can barely _hold your hand_ without interruption. And you thought we would've had better success sneaking around as secret lovers!"

Maria felt her cheeks begin to colour at the memory of her daring admission not one week ago: that she would've allowed Georg to make love to her behind closed doors, without promise or security, with nothing but the unspoken assurance that he loved her in return. So much had changed in such a short amount of time.. and when she looked back on the lost and desperate girl she had been that day, she found that she hardly recognised herself.

"Well I suppose I didn't quite consider the _logistics_ of the arrangement when I first mentioned it.." she defended with a roll of her eyes, somewhat embarrassed, "I was _terrified_ , Georg. All I knew was that we needed each other. And that I was willing to make that sacrifice. For _you."_

His heart swelled with affection, as it so often did in her company, and he ran a gentle finger down the satin of her cheek, "You never cease to amaze me, my fraulein."

They fell into an easy silence for a few minutes, enjoying the tranquillity of the summer afternoon and each other's company, watching as a disheveled Max hared after the children with the game's mysterious stick.

"How do you think you would've done it?" Georg asked suddenly, breaking the peaceful quietude.

Perplexed she turned to him, her brow knitted slightly in confusion, but his gaze was fixed firmly on the children.

"Done what?" She asked innocently.

His face changed slightly then, a subtle darkening that she'd seen before but didn't yet recognise. It was so fleeting that she doubted anyone else would've been able to spot it - but for some inexplicable reason, it sent a shiver down her spine.

"If I hadn't proposed.. " he murmured quietly, his voice bizarrely unlike his own, "if I'd convinced you to stay on as governess for the remainder of the summer. How do you think you would've eventually.. _offered yourself to me?"_

He turned to her then, waiting patiently for an answer, and the look in his eyes was enough to instantly turn her blood hot. His irises were darker than she'd ever seen them, churning with something akin to molten, and if she didn't know any better she would've sworn his gaze could burn a hole right through her.

"I...I'm not sure.." she stammered, entirely unable to look away, "I don't know how I would've acted..."

"Well.. let's just _pretend_ for a moment shall we," his face was kind but his voice was deep, laced with something new and dangerous, "I'm the Captain. You're the governess. What would you have said to me?"

Her cheeks flamed instantly.

"Georg..I-"

" _Captain,"_ he corrected, with authority.

"What?" She rasped.

"Back then.. " he murmured, his eyes burning into her with an intensity she could hardly bare, "You would've called me _captain..."_

"Captain.. " she found herself repeating mindlessly on a whisper, staring transfixed into his eyes - but then she shook herself, tearing her gaze away with a blush, desperately clawing to keep at least _some_ of her composure, "Georg, I don't think it's _appropriate_ to be discussing-"

He began to chuckle then, much to her bewilderment, and the intensity of the previous moments dissipated so fast that she began to wonder whether she'd imagined the whole thing.

"What's so funny!" She scowled, nudging him with an impatient elbow.

"I knew it.." he grinned triumphantly, tapping her affectionately on the nose as though she were a small child, "I just _knew_ it."

"Knew what!"

"That you wouldn't have had it in you!"

He chuckled again as her mouth dropped open with outrage, "I most certainly _would have_!" She exclaimed, completely offended, but his grin only widened.

"Maria, you could no more be a mistress than I could be a nun!"

She gave a huff of indignation then and crossed her arms angrily over her chest. Why was it that everyone considered her to be such a cloistered _innocent_? First the baroness, who'd assumed she could frighten her away with talk of love between men and women, then Max Detweiler, who'd never once taken his chaperoning duties seriously until all of a sudden it was _her_ virtue that was in dire need of protection. Then the mother abbess, who'd insisted on a very thorough and embarrassing discussion about marriage a few days after she'd become engaged. And now Georg himself, laughing at the very thought of her doing anything even remotely scandalous. It was utterly infuriating! She could practically hear everybody wondering how on _earth_ the worldly and experienced captain von Trapp would ever be satisfied with someone like her.

"It would've cost me a great deal to make such an offer to you," she retorted icily, her voice laced with hurt, "I'm glad you find it so thoroughly amusing..."

"Oh darling, I didn't mean it that way, forgive me," he soothed with a sheepish grin, wrapping his arms around her while she sulked only halfheartedly, "I meant it as a _good_ thing. You weren't ever supposed to be somebody's mistress Maria, you deserve far more than that. You deserve to be absolutely cherished. And I'll spend the rest of my life making sure of that."

Later that day Maria found herself pondering over her future husband's words. The night of the party - when she'd realised the extent of her love for him - she'd been utterly convinced that she would follow Georg von Trapp into his bed without a moment's hesitation. Even now, looking back, she believed she would've sought him out eventually, the need to be close to him outweighing the fear of rejection. But her fiancé clearly thought otherwise - a fact that still infuriated her. Was it so unfathomable that she might've gone to him one evening, perhaps finding him in his study, and done something to steer their volatile ship irreversibly onto fatal tides?

 _How would she have done it_? Georg had asked. How indeed? Would she have simply walked right up to him and kissed him without so much as a single preliminary - the way she'd felt compelled to do when they'd danced the laendler? Would she have blurted her feelings to him, finally giving in to the pressure of keeping them buried in her heart? Would she have waited until the baroness retired for the evening, and then followed him to his bedroom in nothing but her slip? Heat began to unfurl in her stomach as she imagined the possible scenarios and the agonising, raw, sublime _intensity_ of what would surely have occurred between governess and employer if any of them had actually been realised. If their heated kisses and stolen touches in the lead up to the wedding were anything to go by, she could only guess at the sheer magnitude of passion that would've ensued between them if she had dared to go to him back then.

If she was completely honest with herself, she had to admit there was something oddly.. _stimulating_ about the thought of it all. The secrecy, the urgency, a need so strong that it simply could not be repressed - despite a houseful of children, staff and what would've been her lover's intended. No, Maria wasn't sure _how_ she would've done it. But what she was sure of, what she absolutely knew in her heart to be true, was that she _would_ have done it. Eventually. And a devilish part of her wanted to prove that to him, to wipe that infuriating smirk from his face and make him appreciate the sacrifice she would've made for the love they shared.

 _"You wouldn't have had it in you!"_ He had said. And with his maddening observation ringing in her ears Maria was suddenly confronted with a new resolve, a bold determination to show him just how wrong he was. She would go to him, she decided, and she would answer his blasted question from earlier that day, proving that Maria Rainer _did_ in fact have it in her after all.

* * *

That evening, when the children were getting ready for dinner, Maria found her fiancé sat at the grand piano in the drawing room, playing a dark and elegant piece she didn't recognise. She listened for a while, transfixed, and then, before she had the chance to lose her nerve, she stepped into the room. Sensing her presence almost instantly, he stopped playing mid-melody and turned to greet her with an affectionate smile.

"Hello daring," he grinned, standing from the bench - but he immediately stopped short and frowned suspiciously when he noticed the most peculiar look on her face, "Why do you stare at me that way?"

Maria swallowed hard and opened her mouth, only to find that no words came.

"Darling?" He pressed, concerned, "Are you alright?"

Finally she dared to speak.

"You asked me earlier how I would've done it..." she murmured quietly, the meaning of her words all too clear.

Immediately the worry left his face, and his eyes darkened dangerously, a hint of a smirk playing at his beautiful mouth, " _And...?"_

Georg wasn't sure exactly what he'd expected her to do then, but he was perplexed when she reacted to his question by taking a step back from him and bowing her head in a formal gesture of greeting, her eyes downcast.

"Good evening, _captain_..." she said, her voice trembling.

Bewildered, he simply stared at her, confused by her sudden and bizarre change in behaviour - and it wasn't until he noticed the furious blush creeping into her cheeks that it suddenly dawned on him... She was _pretending_. Just like he'd asked her to that very morning.

" _I'm the Captain. You're the governess."_ He had insisted on the steps earlier that day, " _What would you have said to me?"_ _  
_  
The realisation that she was about to _show him_ left him altogether amused and stimulated all at once. His bride, of course, would have no idea about the potential merits of role-play in the marriage bed - and out of it, for that matter. But _he_ did. And he had to admit that he was curious as to where his little fraulein might take them, with her promising mixture of innocence and enthusiasm. In truth, there was also a part of him - the part that loved her with a fierce protectiveness - that longed to know exactly what she would've done if things had turned out differently between them...

He decided to humour her.

"Good evening.. Fraulein," he smirked with a polite nod of his own, his eyes sparkling, a silent understanding passing between them that they were now immersed in this bizarre new game of hers.

"If you don't mind my asking," she continued, stepping towards the piano, "what was that you were playing just now?"

"It was Shubert," he explained, watching her nervously move her hand over the smooth surface of the instrument, "would you care to join me?" He gestured to the bench, "I could teach you a few of the notes.."

Her blush only deepened and Georg fought to contain his amusement. It wasn't uncommon - back when she'd been the governess - that they would fall into easy conversation this way and somehow end up at the piano while he taught her the intricacies of a favourite ballad. Clearly she too was remembering those encounters..

"Oh no sir, I wouldn't want to trouble you," she insisted, much like she would've done in the past, "I'm afraid I never was very good at playing piano."

"I insist," he pressed with a half smile, "and besides, I need help turning the pages."

Leaving her little choice, he took a seat and patted the bench - and so she gave a little shrug and occupied the space beside him, careful not to sit too close. Georg smirked to himself yet again as he remembered how she'd so often done exactly that - deliberately avoided his proximity for fear of feeling things she hadn't understood. Turning to the keys, he began to play and almost instantly the intimacy of their previous encounters came rushing back. The way they had always sat so close to one another without ever touching, the way the dark notes had filled the room while she had watched him play as though mesmerised, the way they had both tried to ignore the raw anticipation building between them... And his heart began to beat just a little bit faster.

"It's such a sad song.." she murmured forlornly.

"How so?"

"It sounds like the composer was longing for something..." her eyes moved delicately over his hands as they caressed the keys.

"Aren't we all?" He murmured with a wistful smile. She didn't answer him, only tore her eyes away and twisted her fingers in her lap while he continued to play.

"September is fast approaching fraulein," he stated after a few moments, a worry he knew had plagued them both only a few short weeks ago, "Are you excited to be going back to the abbey? To be taking your vows?"

"Yes and no... " she whispered, her face shadowing with sadness - and Georg wondered briefly whether she was remembering the anguish of that very personal and confusing time in her life that they were currently re-enacting.

"It's the life I believe I was born to live... to find out what is the will of God and to do it wholeheartedly. And yet..." she trailed off hopelessly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"And yet?"

"I've grown to love this place as if it were my very own..."

He chuckled warmly then, his fingers still toying absentmindedly with the piano's key, "You've certainly made an impact here, of that I am all too aware."

"I don't know how I shall part from it all..."

"You'll miss the children," he acknowledged with solemnity.

She nodded mournfully, the colour rising in her cheeks.

"The children yes.. " she whispered, taking a ragged breath, "but _you_ most of all."

Quite without warning the air was knocked out of Georg's lungs and his fingers froze against the keys, his heart in his throat. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, leaving nothing but agonising anticipation and the sounds of their ragged breathing in its wake. And suddenly it was as though they really _were_ just captain and governess, caught in that raw interlude between formality and intimacy, at a time when their need for one another had been almost too keen to bare. He could feel it so intensely, could imagine her coming to him like this so _vividly_ , that his chest constricted with inexplicable emotion. _She would've done it,_ he realised, she really _would_ have given herself to him. And suddenly it was no longer a game to him. He was no longer amused. He was _on fire_ instead.

" _Maria_.." He rasped, reaching for her hand - but at the sound of his voice, she launched from the bench and fled to the safety of the fireplace, unable to meet his eye.

"I'm sorry captain, I shouldn't _say_ such things!" she sobbed, clutching at her stomach in her anguish - and Georg knew then that she was feeling it as intensely as he was, as though it was all suddenly very, very real, "But I've come to _know you_ this summer. And you... you've come to understand me better than I even understand myself," she dared to face him then, her eyes etched with such indescribable turmoil that his heart ached painfully in his chest, "In truth sir, the thought of being torn from you hurts so much I can hardly breathe..."

"Oh _sweetheart_ ," he choked, closing the gap between them in a few purposeful strides and stroking the hair desperately from her forehead.

"Forgive me, captain!" She wept, trying to move away from his touch, but he wouldn't let her go.

"There's nothing to forgive!" He growled, heat pooling in his stomach as he took her face in his hands and kissed her fiercely. The second their lips touched it was as though it really _was_ their first kiss, a kiss born out of the anguish and longing and desperation that had existed between them back _then_ \- and when another sob escaped her throat he only clung to her harder, pouring everything he had into that single point of contact where tongues clashed and gasps mingled. Within seconds, he had her up against the wall, anchoring her to him with his strength, her thighs entwined with his as he kissed her almost roughly, caressing her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, anywhere he could reach.

"Captain..." she rasped against his lips when he finally gave her a moment to breathe, only to descend on her neck, lighting a hot path with his tongue.

" _Georg_.." he commanded, his voice thick with the sudden need to hear her call him by his given name.

"Georg.. " she whispered, her eyes dark with torment, " _Please_..."

"What, my darling?" He pulled back to look at her, "Anything, I'll give you _anything_ you want."

"Make love to me."

Georg was rendered momentarily speechless. Never in his entire life had words alone aroused him beyond all reason, and he had to fight hard to stifle the groan that threatened to escape him, closing his eyes against the intense wave of love and desire. Suddenly it was no longer clear whether they were still wrapped up in their little fantasy - whether they were still captain and governess or whether they'd reverted back to Georg and Maria... but he found he no longer cared. He needed her desperately either way.

"Are you sure..." came his desperate whisper, his forehead resting against her own. She nodded wordlessly, the unspoken love she felt for him evident in the way she clung to him, in the way she'd just kissed him. And he was moved beyond words to know that she would've done this for him if their story had turned out differently, if they'd had no other choice...

Hesitating for only a moment, and without allowing so much as an inch between them, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a single key, pressing it into her palm and closing her fingers around it with his own, grazing her knuckles with his lips.

"There's a room," he breathed, his pulse thundering, "in the east wing. Third door from the right. No one _ever_ goes there."

Maria stared at him, wide eyed, wild anticipation blooming in her chest.

"Meet me there," he rasped, his eyes black as coal, "tonight. After Franz locks the doors."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry to have split this in two but I really hope you don't mind! I'll have the next and final part with you very soon.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: here we go, the last chapter! Again not too sure how happy I am with it to be honest but let me know your thoughts anyway and thank you all for your wonderful reviews throughout.**

* * *

 **Epilogue part two**

The grandfather clock in the grand hallway struck midnight when Maria, like a woman possessed, pulled the covers back without a moment's hesitation and scrambled out of bed, changing hurriedly into her chiffon blue dress. She'd considered meeting Georg in nothing but her nightgown but had soon dismissed the idea - there couldn't be a single mistress in the world that would entertain meeting her lover in such a boxy, virginal garment and so she opted for something that gave her courage in spite of her pounding heart: her blue chiffon dress. It was a dress that meant a great deal to both of them, the very dress that had rendered him incapable of keeping his eyes off her - as the baroness had so delicately put it.

 _The baroness..._

Maria allowed herself to imagine for a moment that the baroness was still at the villa, that she was currently sleeping in her guest bed in the west wing with absolutely no idea that her intended was about to meet with his governess after a passionate earlier encounter in the drawing room - and she was confronted with a heady combination of shame and excitement at the thought of such desperate secrecy. As if in a dream, she grabbed the key Georg had given her and floated out onto the landing. Her bare feet seemed to carry her without any instruction from her brain, her dress hugging around her calves as she moved as silent as a ghost towards the east wing, the stillness of the house buzzing in her ears.

She hesitated for only a moment when she finally reached the doorway, turning the key in the lock with shaking fingers before hurrying inside and closing the door behind her. The room was dark, moonlight flooding in from a stunning bay window on the far side, casting ethereal shadows on the room's furniture - a vanity table here, a wardrobe and mirror there - and in the centre, a plush four poster canopy bed draped with a floating sheer material.

She swallowed hard.

He wasn't there yet, and she wondered fleetingly how many mistresses had been left waiting in empty rooms for their lover's arrival. She didn't have the nerve to turn on the light and so she wandered to the bay window, resting her palms on the sill to steady herself and gazing out onto the lake, a sight that served to calm her frayed nerves. Despite her thundering heartbeat, she didn't once consider running back to the safety of her virginal bed. She was _meant_ to be here, she was _meant_ to be with him. And she was surer now than ever before, that the very same would've held true if she'd stayed on as governess.

She felt, rather than heard him step into the room a few minutes later, his commanding presence both a soothing balm and an agonising torment all at once - and the entire night seemed to hold its breath upon his arrival. She couldn't find the courage to face him, not yet.. and so she kept her eyes fixed to the lake, her heart galloping on an off-beat in her chest. It seemed that he too was momentarily paralysed, for long torturous seconds past with nothing but the sound of his ragged breathing filling the silent space between them.  
 _  
_ _The captain and the governess..._

Somehow they both understood that what had taken place between them in the drawing room was still very much in play, and the atmosphere seemed to crackle with the unspoken knowledge of it - the heat, the urgency, the secrecy of their need for one another. And as the agonising seconds passed, the tension became almost too thick to bare - until she heard the snick of the lock and the telltale shuffle of fabric as he began to move closer. He took slow, measured steps, as though he was afraid of startling her - and she surely failed to breathe when finally she felt his strong hands come to rest on the swell of her hips, his masculine scent and sudden proximity drowning her senses.

" _This dress_ ," he rasped suddenly, taking a shuddering breath against the shell of her ear, "I pictured it so many times when I imagined making love to you..."

His words made her shudder, reaching through her ears and coiling like poison ivy around her heart.

"I.. I thought you might've changed your mind.." she breathed, the confession an echo of what was once her deepest fear - that he wouldn't want her after all.

" _Never_ ," came his low growl, pulling her closer against him, the fingertips of one hand grazing down the back of her arm, "I've needed you for so long, my darling."

Sure enough, she could already feel his need for her through the fabric of his trousers, solid and imposing as marble against her hip - and heat pooled in her stomach at the thought of what it might look like, what it might feel like. She wasn't so naive as to misunderstand what it meant - that he needed to touch her, to be inside her - and her own body began to display what she'd recently learnt to recognise as the first signs of desire.

"How do you feel sweetheart?" He murmured, his lips grazing feather-light against the skin of her shoulder.

"Hot.. " she choked before she could stop herself, arching into his proximity, "all over."

A low groan rumbled in Georg's throat. She wouldn't know it yet, but he suspected there were other signs too - an ache building between her legs, moisture gathering where she needed him most, and the very thought had his arousal straining impatiently against the prison of his trousers. But still, he willed himself to move slowly - it simply wouldn't do to scare her with the force of his desire. And so his hands ghosted up to her shoulder blades, fanning under the sleeves of her dress and caressing her skin like silk and sandpaper all at once. She gasped audibly when his fingertips moved round and down over her ribcage, drawing dangerously close to her breasts where the skin tightened with need. A breathy _'Captain'_ escaped her lips and he felt his arousal thicken dangerously at the sound, the fantasy of a forbidden liaison with his governess affecting him more than he'd dare to admit. He needed to hear her again, to listen to her say things that ought never to be heard on such innocent lips.

"Where does it burn hottest for me, Maria?" He croaked, his voice hoarse with longing as he pressed kisses to her neck. She could only whimper by way of response, shaking her head hopelessly, her cheeks burning with a mixture of mortification and arousal.

"Your breasts?" he dared to ask - and when she could only moan by way of reply he allowed his fingers to dance experimentally upwards, grazing gently across her nipples until he felt them pebbling under his touch. Instantly she clutched his forearm to steady herself against the overwhelming sensations and he knew then she was only going to welcome his ministrations.

"Your hips?" He rasped, his touch roughening as his hands descended her body and pulled her closer to him so there was no mistaking his desire. Her strangled _'yes'_ was barely audible but it was more than enough to set his stomach alight as he watched the flush creeping down her throat. He wasn't sure if he dared say the next thing that was on his mind but she had responded so ardently to him so far that he couldn't stop the words from escaping his lips.

"Where we are to be joined?"

Her eyes squeezed tight shut in embarrassment but she hesitated for only a moment before she bravely nodded once more. Her eager response was enough to send another dangerous rush of blood straight to his groin and his mutinous hands were already moving away from her hips, descending further, stroking downwards, cursing the barrier of the dress he so loved - until his fingertips brushed against the place where she scorched most for his touch. When he flexed his fingers gently against her, the exquisite pleasure bloomed across Maria's body and she found herself melting, shuddering against him with a gasp.

"Mmm, that's better isn't it," he purred, his voice a rough plea in her ear as he cupped her warmth, the material of her dress bunching under his strong palm, "you need me right _here_ don't you darling."

" _Please_..." she begged, though truly she had no idea what she was begging for. He seemed to know all too well however, for suddenly his hands were gone from her body and he was making rapid work of the buttons on her dress, a new sense of urgency dictating his movements and the thrill of being unable to see him coursing through her veins.

"So many times I dreamt of stripping this dress from your body," he confessed hurriedly, popping open the last button and burying his strong hands under her sleeves, wasting no time in pushing the garment down her arms and letting it pool at her hips. She wore no chemise, and the realisation evoked a low hum of approval as he began to pepper the silken skin of her back with frantic kisses, "every time I see you in it you look more beautiful than the last."

His words were setting Maria's body alight, her blood singing with desire - and it gave her a bold courage she hardly dared recognise. Feeling wild and untamed, she reached up and unclasped her bra before he had the chance to do it himself, the garment falling away from her body and bearing her sensitive nipples to the cool evening air. She heard his strangled intake of breath, felt his body stiffen with tension, saw his hungry reflection in the shadowed glass of the bay window in front of her - and she nearly wept with relief when his impatient hands engulfed her breasts, kneading them with roughened urgency.

Feeling dizzy she leant forward and gripped the window sill for support, the movement causing her dress to slip down her hips and pool at her feet. The pressed velvet of his smoking jacket grazed exquisitely against the sides of her breasts as his hands worked her into a frenzy and she was reminded of the night he'd found her prancing around her bedroom in her nightgown, seven charges in tow. His very presence that evening had been dark, imposing, commanding - and the same held true now but in the way he caressed her, in the way he seemed compelled to possess her body.

"Turn around," he whispered, "I want to see your beautiful face when I touch you.."

Wordlessly, she obeyed, heart hammering in her ribs - and when her eyes finally met his, the breath caught in her throat at what she discovered. His irises were black with anticipation and his chest heaved slightly - a consequence of what she could see straining so hard against the material of his trousers - but the adoration was also plain to see on his face as he looked at her with a longing that set her on fire. When he touched her again it was with the greatest care, his eyes never leaving her flushed face as he ran a single thumb over her nipple - and she could've sworn she saw the conspicuous swell of his arousal shift exquisitely under the fabric. Without even thinking, she reached for it, pressing her palm curiously against that mysterious part of his body, and she gasped aloud at the unexpected solid heat that welcomed her. It was hard.. oh _so_ _hard_.. and immediately she lost her nerve, burning with shame as she wrenched her hand away.

"Oh nein, _nein_ darling," he pleaded, grabbing her wrist gently and pulling her hand back towards him, pressing her fingers to his heart before slowly leading them down his stomach, _lower_ \- until, with a quiet grunt of relief, he pressed his heavy arousal into her open palm. Heart in her throat she made to pull away again instinctively, but he held her there firmly by the wrist and she realised, with a surge of unexpected elation that she was already stripping Captain Von Trapp of his composure. His eyes had fluttered closed, his head was thrown back slightly, his mouth had parted, he was grinding his hips slightly into her hand - and the sight gave her a newfound boldness, a boldness that dared her to begin stroking him heavily through the course material.

He shuddered and groaned then - a primal, earthy sound that sent a lightening bolt down her spine - and before she even knew what was happening, before she could even catch her breath, they were kissing with ferocious abandon, both of them clawing at his jacket and shirt until the garments lay forgotten at their feet. With an impatient growl, he gathered her into his arms, lifting her from the ground and wrapping her legs around his waist - and she knew then that _this_ was exactly what it would've felt like to be his mistress - to be consumed with such desperation for one another that the rare moments of intimacy were almost too intense to bear.

Her back made contact with the nearest wall a few moments later and heat pooled low in her body when he pressed every inch of himself against her, the smattering of dark hair on his torso tickling her skin, the solid bands of muscle on his chest brushing against her breasts, his strong legs anchoring her, the muscles of his shoulders flexing under her fingers - and his whispered professions of love against her lips left her head spinning with uninhibited longing. When an impatient whimper escaped her throat he sought to relieve her suffering instantly by drawing a nipple in his mouth, the wet tug of his tongue forcing her to cry out and anchor her fingers into his hair.

"God _help me_ , I can't wait much longer," he implored huskily, his mouth full of her, suckling like a starved animal, "we've waited far too long already. I should've been loving you from the very start."

It was true, his body had wanted her long before his heart had followed - and now that their repressed passion was finding an outlet at last, it felt every bit as though they were back in that confusing and agonising interlude, back in a time when they were harbouring feelings they were struggling so desperately to repress. Only in _this_ version of events, in _this_ particular parallel universe, they were not resisting one another but giving in to their need instead - and he let himself imagine for a moment that this was the kind of passion that might have ensued between them after Edelweiss, after the ländler, if things had turned out differently.

"I'm not afraid Georg," she whispered, though her voice trembled, "I love you."

His heart soared - not because it was the first time she'd said it to him - but because this time she was saying it as his lover. Not his fiancé, not his future wife, but his _lover_ \- and he knew she would've confessed such feelings to him even without promise of a secure future - such was the capacity of her heart. Hardly able to get his words out, he repeated the sentiment back to her, again and again like a mantra, kissing her everywhere he could reach while he carried her to the bed.

Laying her down on the sheets gently, he drew back to reach for his belt buckle and Maria's heart jumped to her throat as she watched him slowly pull the shorter end of the leather free of his trouser loops with one hand, flicking the metal needle with the other, before pulling the buckle free. The belt hung open from his hips and he stood momentarily still, watching her closely, as though giving her a moment to reconsider. The look in his eyes turned her blood hot and when she made no protest, his long fingers reached for the button at his waist. With a sharp intake of breath and a shift of fabric, he pushed the remaining garments from his hips and freed himself for her gaze.

She could feel him watching for her reaction and she tried her best to appear composed - but it was no use. She knew that she was staring in avid fascination, she knew that she was panting, she knew that her mouth hung open - and yet she couldn't force herself to look away. Soft yet hard, enticing yet menacing, pure and yet sinful, straining towards the path of hair on his stomach in such a blatant display of arousal that a newly familiar ache began pounding in her pelvis.

"This is what you do to me Maria," he rasped, "what you've done to me for so long now."

"Show me how..." she murmured with a crimson blush, her voice so unlike her own, "I want to learn how to love you.." and despite her trepidation she held her arms out to him, wanting more than ever to feel him close. But he moved slowly, deliberately, starting at her feet and moving up her legs, pressing open mouth kisses to her calves, then her thighs, never taking his eyes off her.

"No Maria darling..." he protested quietly, "it's _me_ who should be loving _you_.."

And with that he pressed his mouth to her centre, the heat of his kiss palpable through the material of her underwear - and she almost launched away from him, away from the searing pleasure, her head thrown back against the pillow as she gasped her delight. Her ardent response affected him more than he bargained for and liquid fire erupted in his stomach when he realised he could taste her arousal through the damp material - clearly she was already slick and ready for him beneath it, and the knowledge was enough to have him tugging the garment down her legs and nudging her thighs further apart. Despite her shyness, she didn't protest, and he had to take a moment to gather his fraying composure when his eyes fell upon the most intimate part of her body - delicate, open, _glistening_ with desire.

"Oh sweetheart, just _look at you_ ," his whole body seemed to tremble as he took a shuddering breath, "so ready for me."

His words made her burn with mortification and arousal all at once but she could say nothing, she could think of nothing, she could scarcely draw breath - all her senses were attuned to his explorative touch as his fingers coaxed sensations from deep within her that were almost too exquisite to bear. He traced a path along her slickness, leaving no part of her untouched, before sliding a long finger deep inside her, drawing a pleasure she'd never experienced before. Within minutes, his administrations were no longer enough - and from somewhere beyond her lustful stupor, she became aware of a deep, throbbing ache inside her that was threatening to be her undoing if he didn't relieve it soon. He seemed to be avoiding the source of the ache altogether and before long she was clawing at his back, whimpering helplessly in a cloud of dazed pleasure and frustration. Her entire body was rigid with the strain, every fibre of her being fighting for something she didn't understand.

"You need me to kiss you again don't you," came his low murmur from somewhere far away, and she found herself nodding frantically, her eyes squeezed shut against the agonising ecstasy.

"Tell me," he coaxed, running his tongue over the closest nipple, eliciting a desperate cry from her.

She hesitated for only a moment.

"Your mouth," she begged, "please! _Again_."

Without a single preliminary his tongue was upon her, lighting a scorching path of fire from where his finger was buried, up to the place where all her pleasure churned like the eye of a tornado. She cried out in blessed relief and he held her there, tasting her possessively, stroking in and out of her, groaning his appreciation - until suddenly she was falling, crashing, tumbling, spinning headlong into a violent and blinding white light of pleasure that left her entire body convulsing with the sheer force of it. She could feel the vibration of his satisfied moan against her as she gripped him for dear life, entirely unable to silence the cries that tore from her own throat when his merciless finger teased yet more contractions from her. It seemed to last forever, sending her into a deep abyss and to dizzying heights all at once - until finally, she felt herself begin to calm, the pounding in her chest and the throbbing in her stomach beginning to subside.

The devil himself was grinning up at her from between her legs and she was both mortified and aroused to find that his mouth was glossy with the evidence of her pleasure. He didn't seem to mind though - in fact he was already crawling up the length of her body, kissing a path up her neck before claiming her mouth with his own.

"What.. what _was_ that?" She crowed, in a daze.

"Just the beginning.." he rasped, gathering her into his arms - and she was about to ask what on earth he meant by that, when suddenly she felt the very tip of his arousal, like satin and marble all at once, gradually easing her open. Almost instantly he stilled, barely an inch or two inside her, watching her with such adoration in his eyes that she felt any remaining doubt fade to dust. And then finally, while the blood pounded in her ears, he filled her with one ardent thrust, cradling her in his arms as she hissed against the sudden discomfort.

"I've got you darling, I've got you," he choked, kissing her again and letting himself get used to the sensation of finally being inside her, willing himself to love her slowly despite his every nerve burning for release, "God how I've _missed you_ ," he whispered as his hips began a languid rhythm against her, the tenderness she felt giving way to the most wonderful, white-hot friction, a sensation of being stretched and filled - and she knew from the intensity of his gaze as he moved within her that he was talking not so much about their lack of unchaperoned time together in the past week, but about the long months they'd endured without being able to express their love for one another.

 _The captain and the governess..._

How different things might've been had they made alternative choices, she thought - and yet the fact remained that they still would've found each other one way or another, stealing passionate moments for themselves wherever and whenever they could, hiding the their love from a world that didn't understand it - and the thought stirred Maria so deeply that tears began to form behind her eyes. It seemed that he too was consumed with thoughts of how different things could've been between them, for within minutes he was possessing her as though she might suddenly disappear, pinning her wrists to the sheets under his strong hands - and she found that she was welcoming his frantic urgency as he lost himself to her entirely. " _You're mine,"_ he rasped in awe against her mouth, as though he couldn't quite believe the gift he'd been blessed with, and she knew it to be an absolute truth in those moments: whether she'd turned out to be his mistress or his wife, she would always have been his.

"Forever.." she affirmed on a gasp and she watched, dumbstruck, as his entire body suddenly stiffened at her confession, the muscles of his back rippling under her fingernails and his handsome face crumbling with the strain of trying to suppress the strangled groan that tore from his lungs. Never before had she shared such a startling intimacy - to watch such a reserved and conservative man come apart in tortured ecstasy, his entire body wracking with the force of his pleasure. And it stirred her so deeply that her own body surrendered entirely to him, following his lead into the heights of another rapture she didn't think she'd ever become accustomed to. He muffled her cry with a searing kiss and she clung to him desperately, her fingers buried in his hair until eventually she came back to herself.

Some time later, they lay entangled in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of their passion, and Maria once again pondered the confession she'd made to him earlier that day.

"You know... If I'd known how _thrilling_ it all was," she joked, breaking the tranquil silence, "I'd have become your mistress sooner!"

He sighed then, stroking the hair from her face, "Enough talk of mistresses Maria, please," he implored gently, "let's just put it to bed shall we."

She raised an amused eyebrow at him. Bed was _exactly_ where they'd just put it.

"Okay, bad choice of words," he grumbled, "you know what I meant!"

"Oh Georg, I was only teasing," she soothed, playing with the smattering of curls on the planes of his chest, "I can't fathom why it bothers you so much."

"I told you before darling, you were never meant to be my mistress. Even if you could've done it, I know _I_ couldn't have. I couldn't have lived my life only half loving you," he explained, pressing a series of butterfly kisses to her brow, before his face suddenly darkened, "if things had turned out worse.. God forbid if I had made the catastrophic mistake of marrying Elsa despite it all... I would've harboured my love for you until my dying day. And it would've destroyed me to keep you at arm's length. Perhaps you're right - perhaps desperation _would've_ led us into each other's arms behind closed doors. Eventually. _Inevitably_. But I would never have been happy. I would've needed _all of you_. And so I know - whether it would've happened now or several _years_ from now - I know I would've left Elsa. For you. In the end."

"Oh darling, I know.." she assured him, cradling his cheek lovingly, "we would've found each other at some point. We just _had to_. We belonged together, surely."

He kissed her then, as though no more words needed to be said - and she knew in those moments, more than ever before, that they really _did_ belong together. Not just as lovers, not just as soulmates, not just as partners in an uncertain future...

But as man and wife.

* * *

 **A/N voila. I hope I did it justice. Your thoughts are forever appreciated.**


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